Chuck vs The Beautiful Creatures: A Romance
by Zettel
Summary: AU Chuck story with very minor borrowings from The Beautiful Creatures. No knowledge of the latter required - none of its characters or plot is involved. This is definitely a Chuck fanfic. Charah and...magic. Can Caster Enforcer Sarah Walker change enough to love and be loved by a mortal man? What if that man acquired...power?
1. Chapter 1: The Curiosity Shop

**A/N** : This is a Romance built around Charah _._ I borrow a skoosh from the movie, _Beautiful Creatures_. I don't borrow anything plot-wise from the latter, only a few structuring devices and a few selected features of its world, although I change even those fairly drastically. I also borrow a couple of terms. This means that no one needs to have seen the movie in order to follow what happens. This is really all _Chuck_. I am engaged here in some medium-scale worldmaking: every Romance needs its world. Hence, I will have a fair amount to explain but be warned that I dole out explanations in pieces, over different parts of the story. (By 'Romance' I mean a love story told in a world of marvels and heightened perceptiveness.) Enjoy!

I do not own _Chuck_ or any brand of anything mentioned herein. I may own items of the brand, of course, but not the brand itself. Zero money made.

* * *

 **Book One: Intersections**

 **CHAPTER 1 Curiosity Shop**

Chuck Bartowski hated green. Buy More green, anyway. He looked around the store, at its bizarre signs covered in strange sub-Orwellian slogans. He shook his head. Sometimes it got to him. He went home and hallucinated the signs on his bedroom walls. Spooky. They seemed to hang there on his walls and then to slide down out of sight, but leaving a trail of shimmering greenish phosphorescence. It was like the Buy More was haunting him. And, hell, if it was going to haunt him, it needed to pay him a lot more than eleven bucks an hour. He shook his head again, breaking the spell.

* * *

He hadn't been quite himself for a while, but especially since he took his second job. The Buy More salary was not going to get him out of Ellie's apartment, and as much as he loved her, and as much as he liked her boyfriend, Captain Awesome, for Chuck living with his sister and his sister's boyfriend was a spectacular failure to launch. The humiliating countdown began at Stanford. He had been a straight 'A' student majoring in both archeology and computer engineering. Just before graduation, they had expelled him summarily for cheating. He was innocent; no one would listen. Shortly after that, his (he had believed) serious relationship with Jill Roberts crashed and burned. The countdown was still going on; it never seemed to end. No launch, never a launch. All he knew was that he kept feeling smaller as the numbers kept getting smaller. The countdown never reached zero, though. He needed to find his own place if anything else in his life was ever going to get better, if he was ever going to bring this interminable, Zeno of Elea-inspired countdown to an end.

So, he'd gone out, resumes in hand. It seemed like nothing was happening, that he was only wasting paper, until he noticed a surprisingly small _Help Wanted_ sign in the corner of a shop window. _The Old Curiosity Shop._ He looked at the pell-mell, unsettling collection of trinkets in the window display. Tarot cards, bits of string, oddities of jewelry, feathers, old leather-bound books, crystal balls, shrunken heads. But there were also, mixed in at random, genuine artifacts, old statues, masks. Chuck's archeological knowledge clicked in, and he recognized some of the items. None was particularly rare or valuable, but it was strange to see them scattered amongst the other oddments.

Intrigued (and still in need of a part-time job) Chuck entered the store. He was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of the place-the combined smell of old books, burning wax and incense, but all supported on a strong scent of exotic spices, a scent related to the scent of incense but distinguishable from it. The inside of the store was at least as jumbled as the window display. There were long, glass-topped tables with items under the glass. There were rows and rows of shelves covered in books, some books standing, some on their sides, some laying open on top of others. The books looked like a reference library, not like books for sale. There were displays of plants. There were-well, there were _things_ everywhere. But there wasn't anyone-no one behind the counter, no one anywhere.

When Chuck got to what he took to be the main counter, identified by the huge, heavy antique cash register and the one small open bit of counter space beside it, he called out, softly.

"Uh, hello?"

There was no answer. He called out again, this time more greeting than question, and a little louder.

"Hello!"

He thought he heard a noise from behind the closed door on the opposite side of the counter. He noticed a brass bell on the counter and he tapped it sharply. After the ring, the noise from behind the door increased. But it still had not opened. He rang the bell again.

Finally, the noises grew closer to the door. It opened. But only a crack. A voice-female and sleepy-called out.

"What?"

"Uh, I, uh, saw the sign in the window. You need help?"

"You saw the _sign_?" The voice seemed suddenly awake but said nothing more.

"Yeah, yeah, the sign. Do you need help? I need a job-that is, a second job-and I like the shop. I even have some training that might be useful. Can I give you my resume and maybe fill out an application, or something?"

The door closed and silence fell over the shop. Chuck stood still, waiting. Nothing stirred. Chuck kept standing there, not moving. He would have thought he was being treated rudely if he had not felt more like he was being...tested.

"Really, I would like the job. I could use it. I...uh...I'm loyal." _Loyal? What?_ _Why did I say that?_

The door opened. A small woman, middle-aged, plump, with reddish hair, walked to the counter after closing the door carefully behind her. She stopped and looked at Chuck. She was much shorter than him and had to tilt her head back sharply to look him in the eyes. And yet, despite the difference in their size, she seemed to be the one he was looking up to.

After meeting his eyes, she scanned him up and down in frank appraisal. She seemed to shake her head minutely in disapproval. But Chuck had seen so much disapproval in the eyes of others in the last five years or so, it did not unbalance him. He looked at her, trying to hold her eyes. But he found that difficult, not because of the hint of disapproval in them, but because the small woman somehow seemed to gather immense authority in her diminutive frame.

"I'm Chuck, like I said…" Chuck extended his hand. The woman ignored it. After a few seconds, Chuck looked at his own hand, still extended, then closed it and dropped it to his side in two slow, robotic movements. He smiled wanly.

"You are not the person I expected. No, no, you are not what I had in mind at all. But you saw the sign, and _that's_ not up to me. I guess you are hired."

"Really?" Chuck was incredulous. He expected the woman to just shoo him away, like an annoyance. "So, what will I be doing?"

"We will figure that out as we go. My name is Beckmann. Two 'n's. I run the shop. You do what I say. I will pay you thirteen bucks an hour. You can work any three days a week, for five hours each day. The shop is open 24/7. I live in the back. Never, ever go into my quarters, and we will find a way to get along." She then extended her hand. Something about the hard glint in her eye as he took her hand and shook it made Chuck worry that he had promised the small woman something big, but he had no idea what that could be.

* * *

Chuck shook his head a third time, clearing his memory. He was back in the Buy More green. So far, his work with Beckmann had been...unusual. He had worked for the first time last night. He had waited on maybe two or three customers. Most of the time, he just wandered in the shop, looking at the items for sale, and trying to get a sense of the chaotic jumble of the place. Beckmann had greeted him when he showed up, had him sign some tax forms and other surprisingly normal forms-she hadn't even asked him to sign in blood!-and then she had shown him how to use the cash register. Soon afterwards, she had gone through the door behind the counter and closed it, leaving Chuck on his own.

Ever since he had seen the _Help Wanted_ sign, Chuck had felt...weird. His handshake with Beckmann when he got the job had cemented the feeling in place, but had not made it any more intelligible. He felt expectant, like a shoe had dropped and another was supposed to drop soon. But he did not remember any first shoe dropping. He just had this expectancy, a low-level, something's-on-the-way feeling of impending... _what?_ Not impending disaster, exactly; not impending joy, either. No, just a feeling of impending...change. Maybe snakes felt like this just before shedding their old skin? Maybe it was the feeling of birds at the beginning of the molting season?

In an attempt to get rid of the feeling, Chuck looked at the stack of books behind the counter, on a bookcase next to Beckmann's door. He noticed that there was one, slim and elegant, covered in a rich but unadorned leather, almost hidden between two very heavy tomes. He moved the top one and grabbed the slim book. It felt almost warm in his hand, and he had the distinct impression that it was breathing, or that it had a beating heart. It registered as: alive. Chuck swung his head quickly side to side. His nerves were playing tricks on him. He noticed the title of the book printed in gold tracery on the front: _The Intersection of Perfect Natures Or on the Seeing of What Is and What Is Not_. Chuck chuckled. There's the title of a best seller. He remember a crazy book he read in a philosophy class at Stanford- _On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason_. That book had been by Schopenhauer, whose novelist mother had told him, rather unkindly, that his book's title made it sound like an apothecary's handbook. This title was perhaps even worse.

Chuck opened the book. The first page had the title again. It also listed the author: Orion. No publication date or publisher was listed, although the typesetting was beautiful and the paper of high quality. The odor of the book was nice, nothing moldy or musty, just the faint smell of good leather. Chuck turned the couple of blank pages after the title page, and began reading at Chapter One.

* * *

Sometime later-about two and a half hours, if his cell phone could be trusted-he finished the book. But he had no memory of having read it. But he somehow knew he had. As he looked back at the final page, the words became wavy and then disappeared. Chuck winced. He thumbed backwards through the book, but all the earlier pages were blank. The title page was blank. The front cover had no title. The book looked, for all intents and purposes, like a nicely made but empty journal. Chuck dropped it on the counter. His head ached, he realized. He reached up and rubbed his forehead, then used both hands to rub his temples. He felt a drop of something warm on his upper lip, and wiped at it with a finger. Blood. His nose was bleeding. It didn't seem bad. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and squeezed his nostrils shut. In a few minutes, the bleeding stopped. All that was on his handkerchief was one small blot of blood. He carefully folded it closed and then dropped it in the wastebasket beneath the counter. Handkerchiefs were cheap, and if Ellie saw any sign of blood, she would go into turbo-doctor mode and Chuck would have to explain. And he wasn't sure how he could. Better to just get rid of the evidence.

Chuck retrieved the book from the counter and put it back where he had found it, stacking it again between the two heavy volumes. Shortly after that, Beckmann came out to tell him goodbye, and Chuck headed out of the shop.

When Chuck left, he had a distinct sense that he was being watched, followed. But several, he hoped subtle, checks over his shoulder revealed no one. When he got to the nearby parking lot, he climbed into his aging Corolla and headed home to Echo Park.

* * *

That had all been last night. This morning, in the light of a beautiful California day, all that seemed far away, except for the headache. Even a handful of aspirin had left that in place. He had been able to ignore it for most of the morning. But it seemed like it was responsible for the green of the Buy More crowding him more than usual. His grey Nerd Herd tie seemed like it was slowly tightening around his throat. His pocket protector felt like it was getting heavier and heavier. Even his familiar, treasured Chuck Taylors seemed like the laces were being pulled tighter around his feet. His uniform felt like it was trying to kill him, slowly, slowly, by suffocation.

Overcome, Chuck dropped his head on the Nerd Herd desk, hoping the strange feeling of the last couple of days would finally end. As he sat there, his head resting on his arms crossed on the counter, he felt a sudden gentle warmth, a hand had been placed softly over his own. Chuck felt a moment of sudden calm-the strange feelings of the last couple of days, indeed the general existential anxiety that had been with him since Jill and his dismissal from Stanford, all of that melted away instantaneously. All that existed was that hand on his hand.

But then Chuck thought the calm was just another of the strange feelings he had been having, not their cessation. The hand probably belonged to his best friend and coworker, Morgan Grimes, who loved to play practical jokes on him, the more humiliating the better. Without lifting his head, Chuck spoke.

"Look, Morgan, I know it's you. Gimme a break. I've got such a headache."

The hand on his moved; he felt it stroking the back of his hand, and the calm returned. Chuck finally looked up.

His hand was being ministered to by a woman of incandescent beauty. She was tall. Her hair was blond. But most important and most unmissable-her eyes were blue, cloudless sky blue. Azure. That cloudless sky blue was looking at him with a warmth that somehow felt as tactile as the warmth of her hand, still on his. _Still?_

Chuck jerked up, pulling his hand back as he did. He thought that for the briefest instant, the blue of her eyes clouded. But then she smiled.

"Headache, huh? The worst." Her voice was musical, alight with warmth. She continued to look at him, a small smile playing around the corners of her lips and peeking out from her eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Headache. Sorry, I thought you were Morgan." Chuck wished something else had come out of his mouth, some impressive string of words, but those were the words that had shown up.

"Morgan?" She kept smiling.

"Yeah, my, uh, friend. He works here too. Likes to screw with me. Like you were." Chuck suddenly realized what he had said. Horror showed on his face. But she barely reacted, a tinkle of laughter, and kept smiling.

"I would have thought you could tell the difference. You know, between me screwing with you and him?" Her smile went slightly crooked; she was waiting for his reaction. _She is flirting with me?_

"Is there anyway I could _help_ you with something?" Chuck wanted to keep flirting, but he had to get the topic under control, at least a little.

She laughed. A genuine, hearty laugh. "So you are, like, a professional geek, or something?" She asked this while gesturing up at the Nerd Herd sign above the desk. "I guess I do need a geek's _help_."

Chuck laughed too. "No, not geek. Nerd. If it helps, nerd's care more about the distinction than geeks, and I am a nerd. What can this nerd do for you?" Chuck's laugh became a grin and his eyebrows climbed toward the top of his forehead.

The woman blushed slightly. She took a moment to gather herself, then reached into the purse slung from her shoulder. After rummaging in it for a minute, she pulled out her cell phone.

"I need help, yes. Uh. With this; I mean, just with this." She was momentarily flustered but she mastered it quickly. She handed him her phone and their hands brushed again. Chuck felt the same calm suffuse him. The calm was odd, because the woman also excited him as much as any woman he had ever talked to. But somehow his excitement felt right, appropriate-it belonged to him. He was calm about being excited by her-if that made any sense. She gave signs of being affected too, but Chuck was sure that was his imagination creating something that he wanted but that did not exist.

Chuck took her phone and opened the back. He tinkered with it for a moment.

"Oh, it turns out a screw is the problem. You need one." Chuck was so engrossed by the inwards of her phone that he had stopped listening to himself. It was only when he heard her gasping laugh that he remembered his own words. Mortified, he put the phone down and looked at her.

"I am very sorry. I never meant to say... _that_. I mean, I have no idea what you need. I mean, look at you...I mean, you do need a screw-but just a little one…."

"Oh, so that makes it better? Are you volunteering to give me a little screw?" She was looking at him with no readable expression, daring him to figure out how to answer that.

Chuck knew when to throw in the towel. He shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. He picked up her phone. Double-checking what was needed, he dug in the desk of the Nerd Herd and found a replacement for the small screw that had fallen out of her phone, and he screwed it into place. When he re-assembled the phone and turned it back on, he plugged it into the desk computer and ran a quick diagnostic. Everything seemed good. He unplugged the phone and held it out to her. She seemed like she had been carefully studying all that he did. She was so engrossed that it took her a moment to react to the proffered phone.

"Oh. It's fixed? Wow. You nerds _are_ good." She took the phone and slipped it back in her purse. Then she looked at him almost bashfully. "I am new in town. I don't really know anyone here, and I prefer learning about a new place from someone who knows it. Would you, ah, be willing to maybe show me around one evening soon? Maybe tonight?"

Chuck had been behindhand in the conversation almost from the beginning. He was certain he had missed something. _Did she just ask me out?_

"He'd love too!" Chuck wheeled around and saw Morgan, small and bearded in his green Buy More sales shirt, grinning maniacally at him and the woman.

Chuck wheeled back around and found the woman looking at him, one eyebrow suspended, a question mark.

She asked again. "Well? Will you?"

"Yes, sure. I'd love...I'd be happy to show you around."

"Great. I will…."

* * *

Just then, an older man and a young girl approached the desk, barging into the conversation. Chuck immediately noticed that both the man and the girl were upset. He smiled quickly at the woman and turned to the older man.

"How can I help you?"

The man related a story about having filmed his granddaughter's piano recital for his daughter, the girl's mother. But he had hit the wrong button inadvertently and feared he had erased the video. At any rate, he could no longer find it on the phone. He desperately shoved the phone at Chuck.

Chuck took the phone and, as he had before with the woman's, plugged it into the desk computer. He typed quickly and scanned the screen. He frowned and looked up at the man.

"I don't see any video on the phone at all. You either erased it or never recorded it. I am really sorry."

Chuck grimaced when the older man's face fell completely.

"My daughter will be crushed. She wanted to hear her daughter play. She's in the hospital, hospice actually, and has been for a while. She wanted to hear her daughter play once more."

Chuck's eyes filled. "We have electronic keyboards here. Could we take one to her room, so her daughter could play there for her?"

The older man looked shocked.

"You would do that? But we have no money to afford…"

Chuck waved his hand gently at the man. Chuck grabbed a clipboard and signed himself and a keyboard out. He hopped over the desk and made his way quickly to the corner of the store with the keyboards. He grabbed a boxed one and a stand and gestured for the disbelieving older man and his daughter to come with him.

"C'mon. We'll take a Nerd Herder." As he turned to join the man and his granddaughter, Chuck shot a look quickly back to his desk. The beautiful woman, the woman with the sky in her gaze, was gone. They had not arranged the date. Chuck knew he would react to that later. But right now he had to help the grandfather and granddaughter.

* * *

Sarah Walker was fed up with Langston Graham. Fed. Up. He had been the one who found her, years ago, and who had recognized her powers. He had taught her to use them, and had been pleased, instead of threatened, when her abilities outstripped his instruction. But he had also remained very much in control of their relationship. He was, in effect, her teacher _and_ her boss. She worked for him. If it were a matter of her powers versus his, she would win. But Graham was teacher and boss of many Casters, and while none was Sarah's equal, any group of them would be hard for her to resist, if she could resist. So, she remained Graham's golden-haired Enforcer, scourge of the underworld, even though she wanted to be free of him.

Her desire for freedom had grown sharply of late. Various events had soured her on the life she was living. The life of mortals-ordinary, normal life-suddenly seemed like something worth having to her. She even thought, once or twice, when it was very dark and when she was very alone, about the fact that she might someday be someone's mother, that she could have a child. She wasn't sure she wanted that. But she thought she at least wanted to want it. Who knew what tomorrow might bring?

* * *

And, now, this. Graham forces her to rush to Burbank because someone had read _The Intersection._ The bizarre thing was that the person who read it was _mortal_. Graham had a vision of it when it happened.

Sarah was not a Seer, like Graham. She was an Enforcer. She did not keep up with lore. She was a quick study, but never one for poring over ancient books. She knew that _The Intersection_ appeared only once every age, and that it's doing so meant that important changes were on the way. No one seemed to know for sure if the changes were good or bad or both, but everyone agreed they would be...significant. The book normally chose its reader, usually a Caster of great power. But evidently this time, for the first time, the book had been read by a mortal, had chosen a mortal. A mortal. That was supposed to be _impossible_. Adding to the strangeness of it all, the book had been read, Graham told her, by a guy who worked at a big box store and who lived with his sister. A guy who had, for some reason, been thrown out of college and who seemed destined to live the life of _You know, that guy who everyone used to think had so much potential_. He was _that_ guy. Basically, not just a mortal, but a loser mortal. Graham had told her what he had seen in his vision. He had transported her to Burbank and given her her mission. Figure out who was controlling this Chuck Bartowski and why. Graham was certain that Bartowski had to be somehow in the thrall of a Caster, probably a powerful dark Caster, and that somehow the Caster had managed to bring about the book's choosing Chuck.

Sarah had oriented in Burbank quickly. She showed up outside the shop shortly before Bartowski left. She followed him all the way back to his apartment. Despite his obvious sense that he was being followed-where did that come from, by the way?-she easily avoided detection. She watched him as he fell asleep through the window of his bedroom. His face, turned toward her on his pillow, looked innocent and peaceful. She knew that would not last long. But she felt the look on his face tug at her, at her heart, a reminder of something that she had not known in many years. She tightened her grip on her emotions. _What fools these mortals be_! Shakespeare had been a Caster, of course.

Graham wanted her to get to know Bartowski, insinuate herself into his life as quickly as possible. So she put her plan into action the next day. She put on a pink blouse and grey skirt and headed to the Buy More. Bartowski was standing at a desk, under a sign that read "Nerd Herd". Fool, indeed! But just as she was about to start to the desk, she swallowed her smirk as she saw pain in his expression and then watched him put his head down on his arms. When she reached him, the contrast between the innocence and peace of his face in sleep and the pain in it today moved her hand. She placed her hand, palm down, on top of one of his. She expected him to look up, but he didn't. She allowed her fingers, which seemed to have minds of their own, to rub gently across the back of his hand.

Suddenly he jumped up and pulled his hand back. He had thought she was someone else, some guy friend of his. Some _guy?_ They talked back and forth, and she enjoyed his babbling, awkward responses to her. She had planned to pretend to flirt with him, but she found that she _was_ flirting with him. At least, that is how it seemed to her. Normally, she had little reaction to mortals. She wished them the best, of course. Much that she did was intended to protect them. But she did not really mix with them. She did not know how. She wasn't really close to Casters, much less mortals. But she was mixing with Bartowski, with Chuck. Something about his eyes, their deep brown honesty, held hers. She knew that the word 'humble' came from the word for _earth_ , 'humus', and that his eyes were like the earth, brown and humble and solid. She could build something on what she saw in his eyes. But before she had been able to finalize a date with Chuck, he had turned from her, with a quick smile of apology, and had, well, rescued the grandfather and granddaughter.

He had obviously been interested in her, in the date. But he put his interest aside to help someone he obviously did not know. If Chuck was indeed the thrall of a dark Caster, he was a thrall of a sort she knew nothing about. When she saw that Chuck's friend, Morgan, who had intervened in their conversation earlier, was watching her from behind a box for a big screen tv, she took out one of her cards and put it on the Nerd Herd desk. She wrote on it.

 _Chuck (I read your name tag),_

 _How about we meet for dinner and then you can show me around? Maybe tomorrow?_

 _Call me._

 _Sarah_

She put circled her cell number on the card and left it on the desk, reasonably sure that the small bearded guy would make sure his friend got it.

* * *

Chuck was on the elevator, headed up to the room Sarah had told him was hers. He had a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Ellie, unbelievably excited that Chuck was going to go on a date, had helped him choose what to wear. He took her advice, wearing the long-sleeved shirt over a t-shirt that she had suggested, a pair of dark jeans and his omnipresent Chucks. He felt as confident as someone like him could feel heading up to the room of someone like her. His breathing was a little ragged and his palms were sweaty. He still half-believed the whole thing was an extended practical joke of Morgan's. What could this woman, Sarah, this beautiful woman, want with him? Any man in Burbank would have gladly shown her around. Men with college degrees, real jobs, viable romantic histories, good looks. He could easily imagine falling in love with _her_ at first sight (why did he find that so easy?), but he could not imagine anyone, much less Sarah, falling even in _like_ with _him_ at first sight. It made no sense. Objectively, it made no sense. But here he was, at her door. Now or never. He would never forgive himself if he chose _never_. So he knocked.

* * *

Sarah had gotten the call from Chuck that she expected. He seemed a little guarded on the phone, at least at first. But they had talked for a few minutes and fallen quickly into the teasing, flirty conversation of the Buy More. Chuck asked her about what sort of place she preferred for dinner, but she told him, truthfully, that she liked about anything, and that he should choose a place. He asked about things to do after dinner, but she told him to choose that too. She knew that she should have dictated the places, have chosen whatever was most likely to allow her to charm him and to find out what he knew. He had read the book-Graham was sure of that. But he simply seemed like a good guy. There was no trace of... _knowledge_...about him. Or power. How could that be? Some Casters who had read the book had ended up deathly ill because of it. Being chosen by the book was no armor against the consequences of reading it. Few who read it had remained free of side-effects, some truly awful. Anyway, the readers had been decisively changed by reading the book, and quickly. Chuck had only read the book very recently, but there should have been something about him that showed it, or at least suggested it. She had explained this to Graham when she had cast a Communication spell so as to speak with him at length. But he insisted that there was no way a genuinely innocent mere mortal could have been chosen by the book. No way. Something more had to be going on. When she asked what she should do if Chuck figured out what she was after and ran, Graham's answer was brief and categorical: Kill him. Those words were still echoing in Sarah's ears when she answered the door after Chuck's knock.

He stood there in the doorway, smiling awkwardly, clutching a small bunch of flowers. He had a smile on his face that somehow combined _Here I am!_ with _What the hell am I doing here?_ He was the most lovable thing Sarah had ever seen.

She put that thought out of her head even before it clearly registered, but its lingering effect was to close whatever distance Sarah had maintained where he was concerned. She would ask the questions Graham wanted her to ask, but she knew the answers would show that Chuck was innocent. He was a mystery, sure, but he was neither a monster nor was he the thrall of some monster. By the time Sarah had put the flowers in water, grabbed her coat, closed the door of her apartment, and joined Chuck in the hallway, she was on a date with him, even if she didn't admit it to herself.

* * *

Sarah was even more incandescent when she opened the door than she had been in the Buy More. And that was impossible. There was no way she could be more beautiful than she had been in the Buy More. No way. It was now like she was lit up from inside, like she could, if she chose, become all flame. But more than anything, those eyes, those eyes of hers, again. They had shifted as she opened the door, from a flickering guardedness to a heartful openness he had not seen in them before. It hadn't lasted long, she broke their gaze: she was quickly inviting him inside her apartment, admiring the flowers, putting them in water, grabbing her coat. But it had been there. She had been happy to see him, and, even more, she had been happy that she was happy. By the time she began bustling them out the door, that happiness and openness had been covered by other things. But Chuck suspected it was still there, and he thought he could see it, even if she thought he could not. Chuck was not sure what all the things happening in her eyes meant, but he was reasonably sure she was stirred by him. She certainly stirred him. He found looking at her a little like staring at the sun, a bad idea but hard to resist.

* * *

They sat down at the Mexican place Chuck suggested. They ordered margaritas and sipped them as they made small talk. Sarah felt nervous. But she never got nervous. She couldn't figure it out. But the nerves weren't worrying her. Instead, they were a kind of pleasant buzz in the background, proof that she was alive. And that is how she felt, sitting there. Alive. Like an actual girl on an actual date. But she wasn't (supposed to be). She had to keep telling herself that, because her default setting around Chuck clearly was: _open, responsive_. That was not her normal default; it was the opposite of her normal default. She felt like her heart itself might leap from her chest and reveal itself to this man. To this mortal man. Involuntarily, she crossed her arms so as to make her heart's leap less likely.

* * *

Since arriving at the restaurant, Chuck kept getting mixed signals from Sarah. She was enjoying herself. But he could tell that she now was...worried or bothered by that. It was like every moment with her required at least two levels of explanation-the level of what she was feeling or thinking, and the level of what she was feeling or thinking about what she was feeling or thinking. Keeping track of the levels while being so affected by her required an effort Chuck feared would eventually make his eyes cross. Now, something had made her arms cross.

"So where do you live?" Sarah asked him.

"You mean, like what is my address?" Chuck smiled. But he knew what she was asking. He dreaded answering.

"No, I mean do you have an apartment by yourself? Roommates? That sort of thing."

"I get it. Uh, yeah, I...well, I live with my sister. She pretty much raised me. And after I left Stanford, things got tough for me, so she invited me to live with her and her fiance, Captain Awesome."

Sarah hadn't flinched at the information that he in effect still lived at home. She was instead caught by something else.

"You call your sister's boyfriend 'Captain Awesome'?" She giggled a little and raised her eyebrows. Her arms uncrossed.

"Well, yes. He is genuinely awesome. Handsome, athletic, smart-a former UCLA football player and now a heart surgeon. He's also a good guy. He does everything awesomely-surgery, exercise, flossing."

Sarah laughed again. "Flossing? You're funny, Chuck."

Something inside Chuck reacted each time she said his name. It was like a call to his heart, it roused him, made him feel capable, ready for anything.

"So, what about women? Anyone special in your past?" Sarah's eyes again had that two-level look, like she was both generally, conversationally interested in the answer, and personally, seriously interested in the answer. Chuck hesitated and then realized that his hesitation was obvious.

"Yeah, well, there _was_ someone. But that has been over for a long time." Chuck said that expecting it to provoke the same hollow ache any talk of Jill provoked. But, wonderfully, he felt no ache in saying it. It was just a fact of his past. But it had never been that before. It had always been, in a way, _the fact_ of his past, the sucking center of his personal purgatory. But simply being here, sitting across from Sarah, he no longer felt defined by that fact. The sun had risen in his world. He had climbed from the dark valley. There were suddenly new horizons. Old wounds were closing. Her azure gaze, so complicated in so many ways, was nonetheless a balm. Emboldened, Chuck volleyed her question back to her. "What about you?"

It was a though she had been so intent on his answer and his reactions that she had not foreseen the question returning to her. She dropped her eyes for a moment, collecting herself.

"My last relationship ended, well, apocalyptically. Complete disaster. And to make it worse, all my friends were actually _our friends_ , his first, then mine, if they were mine, and so when we fell apart, everything did. There was nothing for me there any more. I packed. I left. And so here I am, with a lot of baggage." She seemed surprised by her own answer, and saddened by it.

Chuck smiled kindly at her. He understood that sort of mess. It was a lot like what had happened to him at Stanford. Suddenly, all he knew was that he wanted to help Sarah, wanted to make her happy. "Well," he said, chuckling, "I can be your very own baggage handler."

Sarah's sudden intake of breath was just barely audible. Her eyes glazed over for a second. He saw her hand move on the table, in his direction, then it stopped. There was a long silence. Just about the time that Chuck thought he had killed the date, ruined the evening, she exhaled and smiled at him, a smile more beautiful than any she had bestowed on him yet.

"I like you, Chuck."

* * *

Sarah was shocked at herself. She kept losing her way and herself in this conversation. Her desire to share herself with this man kept drawing her into admissions, tells, giveaways. Each time she got hold of herself, she relaxed that hold again a moment later. It was like magic. But she knew magic. This wasn't magic. Chuck wasn't a Caster. But he enchanted her, he made her want to be, somehow he made her _be,_ herself, or a better version of herself. Her heart kept moving around in her chest. She couldn't get a firm grip on it. It was listening to him, not to her.

She prided herself on her control, her self-control. She was disciplined, mind and body. She had been molded by Graham, but mostly she had molded herself. A long series of disappointments, little ones and big ones, had taught her that life rarely had more good to offer than a space between disappointments. She had trained herself to cope with that, to anticipate the disappointments so that they would not hurt so much when they occurred. She had, once or twice, realized darkly that what she had really done was to make her life one prolonged disappointment, stretching the last disappointment forward until it met the anticipation of the next, so that she was in a state of unsettled disappointment, going or coming, constantly. But she had not been in that state since she talked to Chuck the first time.

And now she had confessed to Chuck that she liked him. Confessed. Because she did. She does. She likes him. But she was not supposed to feel that way, much less tell him that she felt that way. And her reaction to his baggage handling comment! Whose says something like that to someone else on a first date, and who means it if he says it? Her core liquified again as she thought about it. It was campy, an artificial extension of a dead metaphor about suitcases. Yet it had seemed like a vow, a pledge. But what were they to each other that would make such a vow possible? People needed a certain standing toward each other for vows to make sense. But they were just on a date, a first date, not even _dating_ yet, in the typical sense of that term. ( _Yet?_ ) What was going on inside her?

* * *

Chuck was, to his surprise, relaxed and having a good time. Maybe Sarah would never go out with him again, but the date was going well. Their meals came and they talked about various things, but nothing too serious. Other than her comment about her previous breakup, Sarah managed to dodge, sidestep or skirt answering any other personal questions, and eventually Chuck let it go. She could have her secrets. Maybe, if they saw each other again, she would feel like sharing more. But there was no reason to gum up the works tonight by insisting. They were having a good time, and that was enough. She wasn't hiding, at least not effectively, her enjoyment or her desire to respond to him.

Chuck told Sarah that the plan after dinner was to go to a club he frequented, to hear a band he was curious about. Sarah was game. So, when they finished and Chuck paid for the meal, they drove his Toyota from the restaurant to the club.

* * *

They climbed down the stairs at the entrance to the club, Chuck grinning from ear to ear. Sarah found the grin infectious: it spread to her face immediately. When Chuck had found a table for them, she patted his arm and leaned into him, so that she could say that she was going to the bathroom. His scent made her slightly woozy. And she could feel his whole body stiffen as her breath caressed his ear and neck. His face was deep pink when she stepped away. She had always had an effect on men, mortal or Casters, but somehow the effect she had on him seemed purer, deeper. She wasn't trying to affect him, she wasn't planning any of it. It was just her, and his reaction to her. To create such a reaction without any manipulation, by just being, was an affirmation of her place in the world. Here was a man to whom she could belong, not because he would be possessive, but because she could give herself completely. She felt real.

Once in the bathroom, Sarah stood before the mirror. She saw the flush still on her face. Evidently, Chuck was not the only one who had turned pink before. She made herself take a breath or two, and, as much as part of her resisted doing it, she reviewed her interaction with Chuck so far. He had said and done nothing that was suspicious.

What was going on? He had read the book. Why was there no sign of it? Maybe the book did not cause any change in mortals? Maybe it was too soon? Why had the book chosen him? No one understood the book's choices, although there were Casters who had given their lives to the puzzle. They had produced many theories, but none of them suggested that a mortal would one day be chosen, so all those theories seemed either false or woefully incomplete. Why Chuck?

{Sarah}

Sarah heard Graham's voice in her head. She answered. If he was talking to her telepathically, at this distance, it must be an emergency, he must not have time for a Communication spell.

{What? I'm still out with Chuck.}

{Casey is coming.}

Sarah grimaced.

{Really? Damn.}

{Yes, really. He will catch up with you soon. Be careful. Beckmann must now know Chuck read the book. I can't keep this link open any longer; the distance is too great. Good luck.}

"So much for my date," Sarah thought to herself. Casey was bad news. A Caster, an Enforcer, who was nearly her equal, but not at all as reticent to do damage as she was. In a word, he was dangerous. Duty-bound, efficient. He had real power. Why would Beckmann have sent him? There was every reason to think Chuck would show up to work at the shop in the next couple of days. Why not wait for him? Let him come to her? Why bring Casey into this?

The answer had to be the question that had been bugging Sarah. Why hadn't Chuck shown any sign that he had read the book? How could he have read it and simply walked out of the shop afterward? Beckmann did not understand. And Sarah knew Beckmann enough to know that Beckmann considered any unknown a threat. If she had Chuck killed, the book would have to make another choice, maybe one that made more sense. Still, that seemed like a risky strategy, involving more unknowns. The more likely plan was for Casey to capture Chuck and for Beckmann to imprison him, keep him under lock and key, use him once she understood what, if anything, his having read the book meant.

Her heart contracted at the thought of Chuck imprisoned in some dungeon. If Beckmann got him there, he would be unlikely ever to leave. A sudden conviction, fully formed and undeniable, surged into Sarah consciousness: _Chuck was hers. They could not have him._ And just like that, the Enforcer Walker appeared, and as the blush faded, her power surged through her, her fingertips tingling. Casey would get more than he bargained for tonight.

* * *

When Sarah joined Chuck at the table, he knew something had changed. Her chair was close to him. She scooted her chair even closer and put her arms around one of his. But the smile she gave him as she did so, while warm, was not one of her smiles from earlier in the evening. It was perfunctory around the edges, genuine, but not representing the total state of her mind. She seemed suddenly very aware of the club, and he noticed her eyes scanning the crowd.

Chuck really was interested in the band, and since the band was too loud to allow easy conversation, and since Sarah did not seem as open to conversation as she had been, Chuck began to listen to the band, mainly to keep from pressuring her. She could decide how things went from here. He was just getting caught up in the current song when Sarah stood upright and took his arm with her, so that Chuck had to stand too. When he whirled to look at her, she gave him an order: _Dance!_ Then she pulled him into the swaying crowd.

Chuck did not understand. Did she want to dance? She seemed to want to dance. But she still seemed distracted, like her attention was focused on their surroundings, and not on them, not on the music. But once they were on the floor, among the dancers, her focused returned to him.

Chuck was about to ask her what was going on when she put her hands around his face and transfixed him with her blue eyes. What he saw in them was impossible to read in full, but _desire_ was present. She began to sway in front of him as she continued to hold his face, continued to stare into his eyes. Her hands became impossibly warm against his skin. She slowly let her hands run down his face and onto his shoulders. Her swaying become more pronounced, lascivious. Nearby dancers were beginning to notice. She swung her blonde hair from side to side as she swayed, bending backwards slightly at the waist. Chuck, both fearing that she would fall, and burning to touch her, put out his hands and placed them around her moving waist. She unbent and looked into his eyes again, and Chuck could both see and feel her respond to his touch. Her lips parted and she licked them unselfconsciously. Chuck wanted to kiss her more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. She went up on her toes and he leaned down. But just before their lips met, he saw her eyes shift and heard her say something. It sounded like something in Latin.

Suddenly, the dance floor twisted, moved under Chuck's feet, but not in a way that threw him off balance. A bright bolt of red flashed past his head and impacted the far wall with explosive force. The other dancers all seemed frozen in place, in various poses of dancing, talking, kissing. The floor undulated again and Chuck saw a bolt of blue shoot from Sarah's hands as she stepped past him, her blue bolt going back in the direction of the red bolt. Chuck was still stuck to the floor. Another red bolt shot between him and Sarah. She mumbled in Latin (yes, it was Latin!) and a field of roiling power moved from her hands, distorting the objects around in the club as it went. Sarah did not wait to judge its effects. She grabbed Chuck's hand and pulled him. His feet unstuck, the floor stopped moving, and the dancers started dancing again. None seemed to realize what had happened. Chuck ran as fast as he could after Sarah, as she snaked through the crowd toward an exit at the rear of the club. She waved her hand and the door exploded outward. Sarah ran through the opening, shooting a glance back at Chuck as she began to climb the rear stairs. He could tell the glance was meant to be reassuring. But Chuck could only think: _What the hell?_

They ran up the street.

* * *

Sarah saw Casey enter the club. He had two other men, both Casters, with him. Beckmann had rolled out real power for this. It was a measure, evidently, of how much the situation concerned her. Of course, Casey came in at just the moment when Chuck leaned in to kiss her. She had almost delayed reacting to Casey until after that kiss. But Casey attacked first, attacked _her_. Then she realized that Beckmann must have discovered that she had found Chuck. Beckmann had no great love for Graham. Their two Houses, while not warring, had been in constant jockeying competition. It was unsurprising, Sarah suddenly realized, that Beckmann would panic when she realized Sarah was involved, and so realized Graham was involved. Casey's orders were clearly to kill her if necessary, and then to take Chuck. No attack of Casey's had been aimed at Chuck. Sarah thought it likely that her final attack had at least incapacitated Casey's two henchmen. That sort of spell took a lot out of her, but it packed a mean punch. It was possible that they were dead. But Casey wasn't. He was giving chase.

Sarah looked up to confirm that the moon was full. If she could get closer to it, she could use it to restore some of the power she had expended. Casey was no longer at full power either, but a Caster's power was tied in complicated ways to his or her body, to sex, size and physical health and stamina. Casey, she knew, was a big guy in seriously good condition. She might have more power than he did when the fight started, but he would have something left when her reserves had emptied. But, as a female Caster, she had access to the moon in a way that Casey did not. She could draw power from it. Sarah spotted a fire escape on a nearby building. Casting as she ran, she was able to lower the ladder to the street.

She pushed Chuck onto it and told him to climb. He did. She followed him. They were not far enough ahead of Casey for her to pull up the ladder; he would reach its bottom just as they made the landing at the top. But the lead might be enough to allow her to equalize the fight that was to come. They climbed onto the landing and then mounted the stairs to the next. Up and up they went, until they reached the ceiling. Casey's size was working against him, he was losing steps as they climbed. When they got to the top, Sarah pushed Chuck aside and reached her hands into the air. She chanted quickly, almost under her breath. She felt her power being restored. With one part of her attention, she knew that Chuck was watching her, his jaw hanging slack in amazement. She also knew Casey would be upon them in seconds. She drew the last of the power she dared, then put down her arms and grabbed Chuck in one smooth motion. She hugged him to her and whispered in his ear.

"Chuck, the man chasing us is _Casey_. He is not playing. Don't freak out, no matter what I do. I promise I will not hurt you or let him hurt you." She couldn't help herself; she finished by kissing his neck just below his ear. Then she turned to face Casey as he appeared on the roof.

* * *

Chuck was only marginally able to understand what was going on. He was running behind Sarah, then climbing above her, climbing and climbing, then they were on the roof and she was muttering and waving at the moon. The next thing he knew, she had whispered in his ear and kissed his neck. And then...Casey...was there.

Casey was tall, maybe as tall as Chuck. But, because he was much broader and much thicker, it was hard to tell. He oozed confidence. He was a man who carried his territory with him. He was panting hard from the climb, but that in no way suggested that he would be easy to handle. He got his breath back quickly as he began to circle around the roof, trying to get closer to Chuck.

"Alright, Blondie. Play time ends now. Hand mortal boy over and I let you live." Casey's voice sounded a little like rocks rubbing against each other. But Sarah seemed unconcerned. She smiled brightly at Casey as if to invite him to try something.

"You know the kid read the book. No way he gets to walk around free after that. Who knows what happens next? Who knows what kind of disaster-in-the-making he is? Give him to me."

{Chuck!}

Chuck shook his head. He heard Sarah say his name, but he was looking right at her. Her mouth never moved.

{Chuck? Can you _hear_ me?}

{Uh, yeah, Sarah...I _can_. -What the hell?}

{I can't believe it, but I wondered. I had a sudden feeling that you could do this. Chuck, no mortal can do this, but _you_ are doing it. I hear you. You hear me. Look, Casey doesn't know. So pay attention. He wants to take you and imprison you because you read a book, _The Intersection_. You did read it, didn't you?}

{I think so. Yeah. But I don't remember anything from it. I got a headache and a bloody nose. But that's all.}

{No, Chuck, that's not all. We are talking _telepathically_. Could you do that before you read the book?}

{Oh, right...No. I couldn't. How can I do this? How can you? Who are you, Sarah? What are you?}

He felt her thoughts part company with his. He knew the conversation was over, at least for now. Casey was beginning to make threatening sounds. Threatening grunts, really, and Sarah was now wholly focused on him. Chuck heard Casey begin a Latin rhyme, and saw him move his hands. Sarah mirrored him, mumbling and gesturing. But before anything could happen, Chuck felt his eyes roll back in his head and he heard his own voice, ringing with authority: "Stop!"

He felt power flash from him and he made both Sarah and Casey freeze in place. As his eyes rolled back around, his circumstances looked and felt wildly different. Sarah was surrounded by a pale blue light, nearly the color of her eyes, and it shimmered around her. Casey was surrounded by an intense red light, and it pulsed regularly, as if it were registering Casey's heartbeat. Chuck could feel the power rolling off of each of them, serious power. He had felt nothing like it before. But he could also feel power emanating from the moon, and he could tell that he was absorbing that power, and redirecting it to keep control of Sarah and Casey. For a moment, Chuck felt as if he could stride across the globe like some Colossus, too large and too mighty for anyone to interfere with his desires, free to remake the world to his liking. He knew in that moment the temptation to corruption that comes with all real power. And, just like that, he said: _No, thanks_. And he released Sarah from his control. She whirled to look at him, her blue eyes wide in stunned disbelief.

"You, you...Chuck, you can't do that. No mortal can do that. You can't have _power._ By definition, you can't have power. You are mortal, aren't you?"

Chuck didn't quite understand the question. "Do you mean: _am I going to die_? Yeah, sure. Someday. I hope not tonight. Although I am not placing bets. What do you mean?"

"Never mind. For how much longer can you control Casey?"

Chuck could tell (how, he did not know, but he could tell) that his control over Casey was weakening. Soon, it would be lost. He had no idea how to re-establish it, or even if it could be re-established. The moon had not changed; it still emanated the same power. But Chuck's access to it was waning.

"Not much longer."

"Ok. Come on. We need to find some place to hide. We will figure this out, Chuck. Together."

She held out her hand. Chuck's vision of her draped in pale blue power was fading. Her hand looked like the slim hand of the woman who had accepted flowers from him at the beginning of the night. He didn't move. She looked deep into his eyes.

"Trust me, Chuck." After a beat or two, he took her hand. They ran off the roof, down the fire escape, and back to his car. When Casey followed, some minutes later, they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2: Whatever Interruptus

**A/N** : The second chapter: an extended visit to Barstow! Sincere thanks to those who are reading, and to those who took the time to review the first chapter. I should warn you that there will be no cliffhangers in this chapter. But there will be a song by the Smiths, because what visit to Barstow would be complete without a little piteous yodeling from Morrissey?

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2 Whatever** _ **Interruptus**_

Sarah ended up behind the wheel. Chuck, although he made it to the car just fine, began to feel dizzy when they got there, so he threw the keys to Sarah and got in the passenger side. Sarah was putting the old Toyota through its paces. Chuck realized, as his stomach lurched, that he might have been better off driving after all.

They sped through the darkened streets for several minutes in silence. Sarah spoke just as Chuck did, and he asked the same question.

"What just happened?"

Sarah was shocked for a minute, as was Chuck, and then she started to laugh and he followed. The laughter dispelled the tension-or most of it, anyway-from the car. Chuck looked at Sarah, inviting her to go first.

"Chuck, what happened? How did you do-whatever it was you just did? Only Casters, people like me, have powers."

Chuck considered the question silently for a little while.

"I honestly don't know. I saw you two start to...fight, and I was afraid. And then it happened. But I don't know what happened, or how it happened. I don't know what I did. It was like I was and I wasn't in charge of my own body, my own voice. I wanted the fight to stop. And it did."

Sarah glanced from the road to him, considering him and what he had said.

"Well," Sarah said, "whatever you did wasn't exactly aggressive. All I knew was that I couldn't move and that I didn't really want to move. I just felt peaceful, calm, at least for as long as you held me...that is, held me in the spell."

Chuck looked at her. He seemed to be weighing what she had said, pauses and all. Sarah couldn't hold his gaze, and not just because she was driving. She knew she was blushing again. It seemed like she had been blushing all night. She had to find a way to stop that, and to stop her mouth, which seemed to want to seek out Chuck's and to share everything she was thinking and feeling. She forced her face into a neutral expression and tried to reacquire the firm hold on herself that was her normal condition. But nothing about this night, nothing about Chuck, nothing about her reactions to him, was normal. She breathed out a long sigh.

"Me, too." Chuck said, laughing weakly.

Sarah considered where they should go. Graham's House kept secure locations all across the country, but most tended to be outside the large cities. Sarah knew of a couple in LA, but she worried that Beckmann might know of them too. Beckmann had been in the city a long time-and she was a crafty, cagey old bird. Sarah knew of a mostly unused location in Barstow. That was about two hours away, and it seemed unlikely that Beckmann would have found out about it. Actually, it had seemed unlikely that Beckmann would attack any House of Graham secure location, but after tonight, Sarah was unsure what Beckmann would do. Best to find a place that she almost certainly knew nothing about.

Sarah pushed the accelerator down as she entered the freeway, heading to Barstow. The safe house there seemed their best bet. She had been watching behind them to see if anyone was following. No one was. She had Chuck. For now. But what was she going to do with him?

Sarah expected Chuck to interrogate her, but to her surprise, he sank into his seat and looked glumly ahead. She had no idea what he was going through. No one, so far as she knew, had ever gone through it before. No mortal had, or could have, power. But Chuck did. Did that mean he was no longer a mortal? No, Sarah could tell when she was in proximity to another Caster; Chuck was not a Caster. So he was not a mortal and not a Caster. But, in Sarah's experience, those categories were not only mutually exclusive, they were jointly exhaustive. Every person fell into one or the other, not both, and no one failed to fall into one or the other. But where did that put Chuck? Chuck was not a mortal, not a Caster, and he was not not a mortal and not not a Caster. He was...no one, nothing.

That was clearly wrong. There he sat, staring through the windshield, glumly, and there she sat next to him, driving, aching to kiss him. She couldn't ache to kiss someone who could not exist. The rule book had officially become dated. _That word, again!_

* * *

The more Sarah thought about it, the more she understood that Chuck did not just have power, he was a Power. What he had done to her and to Casey suggested that Chuck possessed power the likes of which Sarah had never seen. More power than Graham. More power than Beckmann. The only person who might know what was going on had been missing from among the Casters for a years-Orion. Orion had not written _The Intersection_ -the original author was obscured in the dust of time-but he was the expert on it, and his 'edition' had become the one that showed up to be read whenever it was time for a new Reader.

Orion was supposed to have been the greatest, most talented Caster ever, and the wisest. That he could have created an 'edition' of the book, with himself listed as its author, was by itself proof of that. Anyway, his relationship to the book was permeated by mysteries. But the rumors said that he became erratic, for reasons that were never clear, and that he eventually just vanished. No one knew for sure if he was dead-it was possible for a Caster to extend his life expectancy some distance beyond that of a mortal-but everyone presumed that he was dead. How could he have remained hidden for so long? And, a still better question, why would he?

"Where are we going, Sarah?" Chuck finally emerged from his thoughts enough to ask a question. Sarah had been driving silently for over an hour.

"We are going to a secure location, a safe house, in Barstow."

* * *

Chuck had never been to Barstow, but had also never missed it. He shrugged. Sarah was running the show. Chuck knew that he needed to be asking questions, but he was both deeply exhausted and, frankly, afraid of the answers. He and Sarah were hurtling through the dark. Would he ever see Ellie again? Morgan? Would what had happened to him put them in danger too? Could he somehow _unread_ the book? Get it out of his head? And, just how much more was there, in heaven and earth, than Chuck had dreamt of in his philosophy classes? The world he had lived in had been exploded in minutes, revealed to be far bigger and far more frightening than he had ever imagined. His horizons receded in every direction. He felt exposed, alone in a vast, suddenly deserted landscape. But was he _alone_?

He gave Sarah a sideways glance. Who was she? What was she? Why was she with him? It seemed unlikely now that she had just shown up with a phone to be fixed and found him attractive. Everything that had happened between them was now under a shadow. Was any of it real? Had they been on a date? Or had he merely believed they were on a date, while something else was really going on? Had her eyes shown him what she was feeling or only what she wanted him to believe she was feeling? Had she kissed his neck just to manipulate him, to make sure he stayed with her instead of going with Casey? _God, I am so tired. My head hurts too much for my heart to hurt too._ Given what had happened, Chuck knew that he was now a major piece in a game he did not know existed and whose rules were beyond him. Sarah seemed primarily to want to keep him with her. Probably the most likely explanation for that was that she was interested in him as a game piece, not really as a person, not really as Chuck. If his heart was going to survive this, he'd better put a brake on his feelings for her. They were outpacing the car at the moment. She was evidently not mortal, whatever that meant exactly, but he was: it was unclear that real feelings for his kind were possible for hers.

Chuck dropped his face in his hands and sighed. After a few minutes, he turned slightly to the side so that he could look out the passenger side window, and could better fight the temptation to keep looking at the beautiful woman driving the car.

* * *

Sarah felt the change in Chuck before he dropped his face in his hands, before his sigh. She knew he was smart. He was going to eventually see that everything that happened between them was now in doubt. She clenched her teeth; it hurt her to be the object of his doubt. But what could she do? Casters did not fall in love with mortals-or, if they did, good rarely came of it. But she was no ordinary Caster and Chuck no ordinary mortal. That made the chances that things could work out between them worse, not better.

Sarah's job made her responsible for mortals often, but it did not involve getting to know them really, and certainly did not involve caring for them individually. She cared about their greater good. She cared about them in a way that made her fight to keep innocent mortals safe. But she had no mortal friends and had never even thought about a mortal lover. Everyone who knew her knew she had a _type_ : dashingly handsome, self-assured, heroic Casters.

Of course, claiming that she had a type was really going a bit far, because the only person of that type she had been romantically involved with was Bryce. And although he had been a dashingly handsome, self-assured, heroic Caster, it was unclear that one romance sufficed to generate a type. As a matter of fact, Sarah had few romances in her past, and none that were comparable to Bryce. The men she had dated before him did not, as a matter of fact, really match his type. But maybe, since the relationship with Bryce had been more significant than the others, maybe she did have a type, a maybe it was a Bryce-type.

Whatever the answer to that riddle, Chuck wasn't of the Bryce-type. He was also mortal, on the other side of a divide Sarah had never really considered crossing for the purpose of romance. It was true that lately she had been thinking about the lives of mortals with a kind of curiosity, even with a kind of sympathy, maybe even with a kind of envy, but she hadn't been thinking about finding a mortal to _love_. Or maybe she had. Maybe she was thinking about finding _someone_ to love, someone genuinely lovable. To be honest, she wasn't clear what she had lately been thinking. What was clear was that she was growing tired of power, tired of its use and its cost, tired of the constant struggle her life had become. Being a Caster, particularly being an Enforcer with her particular responsibilities, no longer seemed attractive to her as it had for many years. She was tired. Tired of her job, tired of Graham. Tired.

She was too tired to pretend to herself that she had no romantic interest in Chuck, his being mortal notwithstanding. She knew she did, knew it in her bones. But she hoped she was not too tired to pretend to him that she had no romantic interest in him. It would be easier if he thought she was just doing her job. _Easier? For her? For him?_ She was tired. _How long would she have to pretend_?

* * *

Sarah pulled into a motel on the outskirts of Barstow. It was too late, and she was too tired, to face the Casting protocols necessary to get them into the secure location. As far as she could tell, no one had followed them. And, so long as neither she nor Chuck used any power, they would remain invisible. Casey would not be able to track them.

Sarah told Chuck to stay in the car. She got out and went into the office. The slightly greasy night manager seemed to hope Sarah would want some company, specifically him, but her careful mix of boredom and laughter in her response kept him from pushing on the idea. The only rooms vacant were rooms with one double bed. That was a complication, but one Sarah felt confident she could handle. She got the room key and then, just for spite, asked for a second for her boyfriend, as she motioned to the car. The night manager bared his teeth in a disappointed smile and handed her the second key.

Chuck was frowning at the floorboard when Sarah got back into the car. She handed him a key.

"Thanks. Is your room next to mine?"

"No, Chuck, we are sharing a room. I got the extra key just to make a point to that annoying night manager."

"Oh, ok. Who did you say I was?"

"I said you were my boyfriend. That seemed to put a kink in his plans, although maybe 'kink' is not the best word to use."

Sarah started the car and moved it to their room on the back side of the main building. She could feel Chuck looking at her again. She knew he was trying to understand what she was up to exactly. Why had she brought Chuck up at all? Why call him her boyfriend? She was not getting a good start on this pretending-you-don't-care-about-Chuck plan. Annoyed with herself, Sarah slammed the car door as she got out. She beat Chuck to the door and opened it with her key. She went to the window and pulled the curtains closed.

"You rest," she ordered Chuck in a harsh tone, "I'm going to get a shower. You can get one when I finish." With that, she marched into the bathroom, clicked on the light, and shut the door behind her.

Sarah was now mad at herself twice over. She was mad at herself for the whole boyfriend thing, and mad at herself for taking her anger out on Chuck. He did not deserve that. He had done nothing to justify it. And now she was shut in the bathroom. She yanked off her jacket, hung it on the back of the door, and then began to take off her clothes. Just as she started the shower, there was a knock, a timid knock, on the door.

"What?" Sarah managed to keep that from sounding exasperated.

"I can't call Ellie, can I? She's going to be so worried." Chuck sounded a little desperate, and a little cowed. "I mean, can you, uh, Casters, do like magical wiretaps or something?"

Sarah's exasperation evaporated into the rising steam of the bathroom, and she giggled quietly into her hand. "No, Chuck, we don't do magical wiretaps, but we do normal ones. Think about it this way, if, say, the CIA or NSA can do it, then we probably can too. And a lot more. So, no, you can't call Ellie. But I promise that I will find a way for you to get word to her that you are safe." Sarah finished disrobing. She heard Chuck assent as she stepped into the steaming water.

* * *

Chuck's headache had finally gone away. He was still exhausted, but too stressed and excited to sleep. He stretched out on the bed and tried not to think about Sarah taking her shower. She obviously thought they were safe for now, and she would be the one to know, so Chuck started working on calming himself. He took long slow breaths, in and out, in and out. He was starting to feel calm, less stressed and excited, when the bathroom door swung open and Sarah emerged in a cloud of steam. She was wearing her camisole and panties. Nothing else. She walked over to the table in the room and put her things on it, her clothes neatly folded.

Chuck was immediately more stressed and excited than before his breathing exercise. Sarah walked to the side of the bed opposite him, and began to turn back the comforter. Chuck raised himself on his elbows and looked at her, carefully, in the eyes.

"Ah, right, I will, uh, sleep on the floor. You can have the bed." Sarah stopped what she was doing and looked at him briefly, then she returned her attention to the bedclothes.

"No, Chuck, the floor is gross. You are not going to sleep there. I wouldn't do that to you. We can share the bed."

"Really? Are you sure that's a good idea, Sarah?" A spark of her earlier anger returned to her eyes.

"Yes, Chuck. I am sure. I can resist you, you know."

"Oh, I am sure. If there is one thing that Chuck Bartowski is, it's _resistable_." Chuck let the matter drop with that half-joke and went around the bed into the bathroom. He stripped down and took his shower, reasonably sure that Sarah was not having any problem keeping her thoughts from turning to him as he had while she showered.

* * *

Sarah was not ready to sleep, despite being in bed, despite being tired. Television did not interest her. But she liked music, even if she knew little about it. So she clicked on the clock/radio beside the bed and turned the dial until she heard a clear voice.

"This is Barstow Community College Radio, and this is my show. I am Gary. Settle back for an hour of old New Wave classics and more. First up, the Smiths, 'Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want'."

Sarah felt the song come home. Its tone of half-realized, half-resigned desire struck a deep chord with her. The singer wanted something desperately but seemed not to expect to get it, maybe not even to know what it was, and, even worse, what he knew was that life he was living was a life that turned good men bad. All the anger and frustration and futility of the past hours and the past weeks and past months welled up in Sarah. She was about to cry. She clicked off the radio as the song ended and put her pillow over her face. She fought with herself for control. She lost.

* * *

Chuck emerged from the bathroom wearing his t-shirt and jeans. He was barefoot, and had his shirt and his Chuck Taylors in his hand. He hung the shirt in the closet and stowed his shoes beneath his shirt. Sarah was already asleep. That surprised Chuck. She seemed so preternaturally aware, it was hard to imagine her asleep, or being willing to sleep while in the presence of someone awake. She had turned on her side and was facing toward his spot in the bed. He looked at her face. Beautiful. Even asleep, she seemed aglow. Chuck wondered if that was because she was actually glowing, glowing pale blue, beyond the limits of what he could now see. He noticed that her eyes were a bit red, a bit puffy. Had she been crying? He had a hard time imagining her crying. That sort of vulnerability seemed foreign to her.

Chuck stretched out beside her, trying hard not to disturb her slumber. She rolled back over to face away from him, but he thought she had done that in her sleep. Her breathing was steady and rhythmic. Chuck couldn't help but laugh silently at his predicament. He was in bed with Sarah, but not in bed with Sarah. He got to experience all the curses but none of the blessings of being so close to her. His frustration had begun with their near-kiss on the dance floor and although events had distracted him from it, his frustration announced its continued presence when she came out of the bathroom. His shower, cold, had helped. But having her beside him was warming him again. He rolled on his side to face away from her. Better for them to be back to back. Chuck eventually went to sleep.

* * *

Sarah began to awaken. She first dimly registered the feeling of Chuck's hand on hers, and then the feeling of his body curled into and against hers, warm and inviting. He began to stroke her hand and fingers with his fingers. Sarah enjoyed the sensation for a moment and then, still hovering on the edge of sleep, she wove her fingers into Chuck's and squeezed gently. She heard his breathing change, and she was suddenly wide awake. She rolled over toward Chuck to find him rolling toward her and then resting on his arms above her. He leaned down to kiss her, his eyes bright and his curly hair askew. Sarah caught him with her hands against his chest, then pushed him up far enough to slip from beneath him. She walked quickly into the bathroom and closed the door.

Once inside, she leaned back against the door and put her hands in her hair. She pulled it in frustration. She wanted to go back to him, back to that bed, their bed, and she wanted to make love to him. But that absolutely could not happen now. It would be a bad idea to start something she could not follow through. As bad as she wanted to sleep with Chuck, if she did it now it would be with no expectation that it might ever happen again. She still had to face Graham. She could be ordered to leave Chuck or worse. And she would have to face Graham today. She did not just want to sleep with Chuck, she realized, even though she wanted that badly. She wanted to be with Chuck, maybe to be a couple and to work toward something together, committed to each other. But that was not clearly in the cards, and it would be wrong to do what he would understand as her making him a promise. She was dead sure that he was not a one-night stand kind of guy. And she didn't want that. What she wanted wasn't entirely clear to her, but it was getting clearer. It wasn't that. She needed time to think. She needed time to talk to Chuck.

She had fallen for Chuck, or started falling, at the Nerd Herd desk. She touched his hand and he touched her heart. She had continued falling. She had daydreamed about him after leaving the Buy More. She had fallen farther when he called. The plummet was irreversible when he stood in her door. She was still falling. She had parachuted from planes into trackless jungles. She'd even done it at night. Never had her fall been this free. The only force acting on her was irresistible gravity of Chuck.

When Sarah came back out of the bathroom, Chuck was fully dressed and sitting in the desk chair. If he was upset about what she had done, he was hiding it well.

"Are we going?" He asked the question with a neutral tone.

Sarah was both pleased and disappointed. She needed to talk to Chuck, but it would be better to do it somewhere away from the bed they had slept in together, woke up in together. At least, it would be better for her, because the bed drew her with a magnetic force. It was all she could do not to look at Chuck and then to look at it, beckoning them both back into it. She grabbed her clothes quickly and went back into the bathroom. A minute or so later she emerged fully clothed. She walked silently past Chuck and out the door. He followed her and closed the door without comment.

She started the car and drove them deep into the countryside, to an old ranch house. It was surrounded by a fence and the driveway was closed by a heavy gate. Sarah stopped in front of the gate and shut off the car. She got out and walked to the gate. She put her hands on it and bowed her head. She said the necessary words and felt the familiar twinge of power. The gate recognized her, and it swung inward. She knew that as it did so, other perimeter warding spells would be suspended for a few minutes, so that she and Chuck could get to the house before further shibboleths would be needed. Graham would already know she was there, since the warding spells were his.

She would have to talk to him soon. She still did not know what to tell him or what to say about all that had happened. Her life had changed. It had changed so much and so quickly that she was unsure how to even begin to process the changes, since the only vocabulary for change she had was the vocabulary from before the changes, a vocabulary woefully inadequate for her new reality. She had never had many words for emotions. She had not let herself feel them or denied she she felt them when she did. She had rarely been obliged to talk about them, and even then, she normally refused. It was like she'd gone from seeing in black and white to seeing in technicolor, and she was bedazzled by the splay of hues, tongue-tied.

* * *

The ranch house was on a beautiful piece of land. Although houses could be seen in the distance, none was nearby. Inside, the ranch house looked like...a ranch house. The floors were old pine, waxed to a shine. Heavy, vaguely Mission-style furniture filled the downstairs rooms. In the kitchen there was an old heavy stove, a couple of large sinks and a central island, over which hung pots and pans. It was a worn and comfortable place, not at all the haunt of witches and warlocks that Chuck had expected. Sarah had disappeared upstairs shortly after they entered. She had gestured to a room off the living room, and informed him that it was his, and that he would find fresh clothes in the closet.

Since she had not looked back and had not returned, he went into the room. A large bed occupied a goodly portion of the space. An old tiger oak chest of drawers stood against one wall and a few feet from the end of the bed. On the top of the chest was an antique clock, ticking loudly, and telling the correct time. Chuck went around the bed to the closet on opposite the door. Inside were shirts and jackets and pants, all on hangers. Chuck grabbed a olive shirt and a pair of jeans. Each was his size. He took them with him and went in search of a bathroom. He found one soon enough, and went inside. He changed clothes. He noticed that there was a new toothbrush, still in its packaging, beside an untouched tube of toothpaste. He brushed his teeth and washed his face. He ran wet fingers through his hair. It didn't help much, but he felt better for trying. He went back into the living room. A bookcase stood against the wall. He went and looked at the books. Most of them were English classics-Austen, Dickens, Trollope, Eliot, Lawrence and so on. Chuck picked up Austen's _Northanger Abbey_ (it fit his mood) and sat down to wait on Sarah.

* * *

Sarah climbed the steps and forced herself not to look back at Chuck. She did not need a fresh image of him in her mind when she had her conversation with Graham. She in upheaval enough, confused enough. Their second near kiss had left her strembly, and she had worked hard to keep Chuck from noticing. Luckily, he seemed to be struggling to find a way to act as though it had not happened (had not nearly happened), and so he had not talked about it or spent too much time in close, if surreptitious, examination of her. She knew what she had done had hurt him, and that she had once again thrown everything between them back into doubt. But that was where she needed it to stay. If he was as sure of her as she was of him, not even Graham and Beckmann together could keep them apart. But since she might have to part with him, it was better to keep him unsure. He was hurt, but the hurt did not compare to the hurt he would experience if she allowed herself to confirm all that she knew Chuck had spied in her eyes or felt in her touch. _Plausible deniability_ , or something like that.

Sarah went to her room and found the closet full of clothes in her size and style. She changed quickly into a plain blue blouse and a pair of black jeans. She put on pair of soft, low boots. She brushed her teeth and worked on her hair. She put on just a little makeup, and then she left the room and went down the hall to the library. Inside, there was a round table in the middle of the book-covered walls. On the table was a large earthen bowl, unadorned but beautifully shaped, in which stood a couple of inches of water. Sarah approached the bowl and dipped in a finger. She drew a vertical line on her forehead with the finger, and then sat down at the table. She chanted for a while. A few seconds after the chant ended, a three-dimensional image of Graham appeared above the water. Telepathy was fine in a pinch, but it was always better to be able to see and hear (with your ears) the person talking to you. Telepathy was prone to the same sorts of troubles as texting. It was hard to get tone and context. Telepathy was not empathy. Communication spells were really better. It just took time to prep the items (luckily they were already prepped in the library) and to do the chanting.

Graham looked unhappy. "Sarah, at last. Why didn't you go to the ranch house last night?"

"It was too far and I was too tired. Chuck was too upset to spring yet more on him. I figured we would both be better off with some rest. I was sure we got away clean. We spent the night in a bad motel on the other side of Barstow."

Graham looked at her, unconvinced. He seemed to be trying to decide what to ask her first. Sarah figured she'd be better off if she took control of the conversation.

"So, I went out with Chuck on a 'date'," Sarah said, making scare-quotes in the air with her hands. She felt a sharp pang of guilt when she did so, felt disloyal to Chuck. But she went on. "I found no reason to think Chuck is a Caster or is in thrall to a Caster. In fact, if it were not for your knowledge that he read the book, I would have thought there was a mistake. We had dinner and then we went to a club. Chuck seemed perfectly normal," her eyes went unfocused, "even charming." She forced her eyes to refocus. "Casey caught up with us, as you know. There was a brief battle, and Chuck and I escaped." Sarah stopped and then looked at Graham. "By the way, did you send in someone to wipe the memories of the folks in the club, and to repair the damage?" She saw Graham nod. He must have sent in a group of Cleaners, Casters who wiped away the trail of other Casters. "We ended up on a roof. I needed to get closer to the moon after the power I expended in the battle. Casey caught up with us. He and I prepared to engage each other again, when Chuck stopped us."

"What do you mean? 'Stopped you'?"

"Chuck somehow froze me and froze Casey. We were unharmed, but could not move or use our powers. After a couple of minutes, Chuck released me and we ran. He said that he could only hold Casey for a little while longer, but he was able to do it long enough for us to escape."

Graham's eyes were wide and his lips were working. He was upset, in disbelief. But more, he was...afraid.

"So you are telling me, Sarah, that a _mortal_ now has powers, and not only that, sufficient powers to overcome two of the most deadly Casters in the world, two Enforcers? Is _that_ what you are telling me?"

"Yes, sir."

"But you know that is impossible!"

"No, sir. I know it is possible because it happened. I saw it. It was done to me. Chuck went into a kind of trance, his eyes rolled back a bit, and he spoke in a voice that seemed his and his. But as quickly as his power came, it went. He does not seem to have any real control over it. Maybe he could learn some; I don't know."

Graham mulled this over.

"Do you have any idea what triggered his power?"

"Well, he said he was afraid, and then it happened."

"So you think that Bartowski's power is triggered when he is afraid for himself."

Sarah sat quietly for a minute.

"No, actually, I don't think Chuck's power is triggered by fear for himself. I think it was triggered by his fear for me. Chuck is a mortal, yes. On paper, he seems like a loser, I grant. But I have spent some time with him. He is not a coward. But, more than that, his first thoughts are never for himself." Sarah thought about Ellie and Morgan, and about the grandfather and granddaughter. "He is brave and he is selfless. I think his power was triggered by his fear for me, sir."

"Really? Did he say that?

"No, no he didn't. But he almost did. He's been talking around the fact that he has feelings for me since we met, I think."

"Sarah, I know how good you are at your job. I also realize that you are a beautiful woman, intelligent and, well, bewitching. But do you mean to tell me that you have been able to manipulate Bartowski to this degree in such a short time? Because if you have, we may have to go back to calling him a loser, and not just on paper."

Sarah fought back her sudden anger. She took a breath before she responded.

"No, sir, you misunderstand me or I am not making myself clear. Chuck has not been manipulated. I have not been running any kind of seduction gambit. I mean, I did force a bit of flirting when I first spoke to him, but the forcing vanished almost immediately. He fell for me; I didn't push him." Sarah paused, considering.

"Maybe love at first sight seems unreal in our world. But it is real in his, or it is a real possibility for him. I think he is in love with me. And that love is a product of, well, nature, not artifice." Sarah was silent for a while and Graham watched her closely.

"Until the last few hours, I did not believe in love at first sight. Or, if I did, I thought it could only happen to the pure in heart-like Chuck. I don't think that anymore. I do believe in it."

Graham hardly knew what to say to her, she could tell. He seemed to recognize the drift of what she was saying just after she did. He tried to resist it.

"Look, Sarah, does it matter how it happened? This is a good thing. If he loves you, then we have a handle with which to control him. But we need to know exactly what power he has, what he can do. The problem is that we may not have time to figure this out. I have been in contact with Beckmann. She made nice after Casey lost you and, I presume, after his report scared her silly. She says that there is a group of dark Casters who have infiltrated our Houses, and that they were already expecting that someone would soon read the book. They now know it has happened. But they don't know who the reader is or that he is mortal or where he is. Luckily, the display of power on the roof last night seems not to have alerted anyone or left a trace. Don't ask me how. Whatever the nature of Bartowski's power, he can use it without alerting everyone to who and what and where he is. A significant advantage for him. But it also could make him a very threatening enemy."

Sarah let the last remark pass. It wasn't false, but she felt sure Chuck was not and would not be their enemy.

"Sir, how did Beckmann come by this information?"

"She caught one of the dark Casters in her rooms. She...questioned him for a while and he...told her what she wanted to know."

"Does this group of Casters have a name?"

Graham laughed. "They call themselves The One Ring." Graham shrugged. He had no explanation for the name.

"So Chuck is safe here?"

"Yes, Sarah, at least for a little while. See if you can figure out anything more about his powers, about him. I have his sister and her boyfriend-and that Morgan character you mentioned-all under protection. He does not need to worry about them. Make that clear to him. Talk to him. Go on long walks. Do... _whatever is necessary_."

Sarah blushed. She looked at the floor. So this was how Graham was going to play it, how he would try to twist what he now knew she was trying to say.

"Sarah, are we done for now?"

"No," Sarah said, lifting her eyes. "We are not done. Because you need to know: I fell for him too. I love Chuck, I don't know how it happened but I do, and I don't know what to do about it. But if...whatever...happens, it will not be because I am _following orders_. I want that to be clear."

Graham looked like he was going to be sick. So much for his handle on Chuck. So much for his handle on her. She waited for the tirade she knew was coming.

* * *

Chuck had read a sizable chunk of _Northanger Abbey_ and still Sarah had not returned. He did not want to follow her upstairs. Her body language had more or less told him not to do that. But he could not imagine what was taking so long. He made a mental note of the page number he stopped on and then put the book down. He walked through the kitchen to the back porch and stood looking at the fields and distant houses beneath the glare of the midday sun.

"Chuck?"

Chuck turned to in time to see Sarah see him. The concern that had been in her eyes vanished. She looked at him with real warmth in her expression.

"Did you talk to your boss?"

"Well, 'boss' is not exactly the right word, but it is close enough. And yes I talked to him. We are going to stay here for the next day or two. Ellie and Captain Awesome and Morgan are all under the protection of the House of Graham. They will be safe. So we can stay here and try better to understand what has happened to you That will also give Graham, my boss, time to work out some details about where we go from here."

Chuck had been getting more and more worried about the folks back home, and it relieved him some to hear that they were being protected. That was good. But it also meant that they really might be or become targets. That was bad. But for now, Chuck could not do anything about it. If, however, he could better understand what that stupid book had done to him, maybe he could help to protect them. If he could gain some control over what he could do, he could make a difference in all that was unfolding around him.

Sarah waited for an explicit reaction from him. When he smiled, she returned the smile and then she headed back into the kitchen. Chuck followed her. Since they had not eaten breakfast, Sarah offered to make them omelettes for lunch. Chuck quickly took her up on the offer. While she cracked the eggs and beat them, Chuck cut up vegetables. His cutting was going slowly, and he noticed Sarah watching with an amused mixture of pain and horror, so he wordlessly handed her the knife. The blade was a blur in her hand. In seconds, the vegetables were chopped. When she saw Chuck's stunned pleasure at her prowess with knives, Sarah gave a slight, satisfied smirk, and then added the vegetables to the eggs and cheese Chuck put into the pan.

As Sarah finished the omelette, Chuck found what was necessary for coffee and brewed a pot. He had just poured them both a cup when Sarah put two dishes on the table, each with half an omelette. They sat down and ate in a suddenly embarrassed silence. Sarah realized that each had been struck by how natural it felt, how right. But they did not know each other, really, so the feeling of naturalness had to be an illusion. Except that Sarah knew for her it wasn't. But she knew Chuck was not completely sure about her. His doubt was like an ache in her side. She needed to rid him of that doubt if she could.

* * *

Chuck was sure of one thing. Whatever was going on between them had shifted yet again after Sarah's conversation with Graham. She was not exactly open with him. But she seemed no longer angry or frustrated, no longer determined to try to be closed to him, as she has seemed from the time he tried to kiss her until her conversation with Graham. Chuck knew she had been in a running battle with herself since they had met. He had taken a little friendly and unfriendly fire himself. But now it seemed like, although there were perhaps battles still to come, the war was over. Something had shaken loose in her. Chuck realized he would simply have to let her work it out in her own time.

* * *

Graham had been furious at what Sarah said. And then he got even more furious. His tirade had been colossal. How could she, Sarah Walker, his student, perhaps the finest Caster he had ever trained, his personal Enforcer, how could she be in love with a mortal, how could she?

Sarah simply weathered the storm. She had no explanation that made sense to her, so she had none that was likely to make sense to him. And, yes, she knew that Casters, especially Enforcers, did not fall in love, especially with mortals. And, yes, she knew that such relationships typically ended quickly or very badly or both. And yes, she knew that she was tasked with protecting Chuck, and that her feelings for him might make her less effective. And, yes, she knew that she might end up needing protection from him. Yes, _she knew all that_. (Even if she wasn't too worried about most of it, but there was no reason to tell Graham that. He would chalk it up to her being moony.)

Eventually, Graham wound down. All he could do was mutter and fret and repeat that this was a shocking development and a very bad idea indeed. And then he did what Sarah had expected all along. He threatened to remove her, to send someone else to protect Chuck.

"Look, sir, I understand that you are unhappy about this. I understand that it runs against protocol and tradition. But he is in love with me. He used his power to keep me safe. You know I would not lie to you about that, and you know that, in general, you trust my judgment. Let's agree to disagree about my feelings for Chuck. But, despite them, I am the best person for this job and you know it. I am the best at what I do, and my feelings for Chuck will not keep me from being the best. Our feelings for each give me the best chance of figuring out what he can do and why he can do it. Again, you know I won't lie to you. So let me say that I take protecting Chuck very seriously. My feelings for him will not compromise my ability to do that. But my feelings may make it the case that I will find myself protecting him from you, and not just from Beckmann or The One Ring. I am offering you that up front, not concealing it. So, unless you have plans to harm Chuck, your best plan is to leave him with me."

Graham had remained pissed. But he also saw Sarah's point, at least he did after a long session of swearing and threats. She again weathered the storm. At the end, Graham had this parting shot:

"Sarah, you have talked more to me in the last few minutes than you have at any one time since I have known you. That shows me that what you are telling me is true. Bartowski has...done something to you. I...hope it is something good. Get back to me soon."

* * *

When she finally got back downstairs, she didn't see Chuck. There was a book on an end table, but no Chuck. She felt panic begin to rise-had he run? She hadn't even considered that. She went into the kitchen and then she saw him on the back porch. She stopped and took a deep breath before she called his name. She meant what she said to Graham. She loved Chuck, but she did not know what to do about it. That had to be worked out. They could start by making something to eat. An omelette sounded good to her.


	3. Chapter 3: Along Came a Spider?

**A/N:** Ah, Barstow, fabled in song and story!

Continued thanks to those who are reading and especially to those who've taken the time to review.

The sci-fi story Chuck kinda remembers in this chapter is by the amazing Kit Reed, and can be found in her _The Story Until_ _Now_. The story served as both inspiration and warning to me in my own youth. I can still remember reading it, sitting in a metal chair propped against a wall of the barn. That was a good day. Funny, the stories that leave their fingerprints on your imagination.

Reminder: No ownership of _Chuck,_ no ownership of anything. Nada dollars made. Doo dah, doo dah...

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3 Along Came a Spider?**

Their omelet eaten and their plates pushed back, Chuck drank his coffee and looked at Sarah. She had turned her chair slightly, so that she could look out the back windows. The day had grown warm, but it was not hot. Sarah had her coffee cup in her hands. Every so often she would turn from the scene outdoors and glance at Chuck. Someone needed to say something, and it seemed unlikely to be her.

"So, Sarah, maybe you can help me to understand...all this. You are not a mortal? What does that mean? Are you _immortal_?"

She giggled, a murmur of music. "No, Chuck, I am a human being. We belong to the same species. Had we...uh...finished in the motel room, it would not have been cosmic miscegenation. I am not an alien or some kind of divinity. I am a human being with powers, what you would call magical powers. These powers are (well, normally) passed down from parents to children. Casters are the children of Casters. Sometimes Casters have children who do not inherit the powers, but (well, until you) no human being ever acquired powers except by inheritance. That is one reason why we differentiate ourselves from others, 'mortals' as we call them. Our powers make it possible for us to extend our lifetime somewhat, if we live to die of natural causes, but we are not close to immortal. We are just not quite as tightly bound to the biblical three score and ten as most humans are. But if you cut me, I bleed. I can be killed. I age."

"Oh. So your dad and mom?"

"Were Casters, yes." Sarah's tone had shifted from amused lecturer to guarded. Her parents were not up for discussion-Chuck could hear that in the tone.

"So, do...little Casters know how to do magic from the time they are born?"

"No. You come into your powers around the same time as puberty. That is a miserable time for most of us," she shot Chuck a look, and he nodded, grinning wryly, "but it really sucks for Casters. Your power is tied to your body, to your sex, your stamina, your health. Like your physical energy, your power gets restored in sleep and spent in use. The power I used the other night in fighting with Casey had nearly exhausted me. I don't know how long I could have lasted against him on the roof. In absolute terms, I am more powerful than he is, but if we had to fight a prolonged battle and my early attacks failed, he could probably outlast me. He is bigger than I am, stronger. Anyway, it would have been a near run thing, that battle, had it happened."

"You say it is tied to your sex? What do you mean?"

"Female Casters can draw some power from the moon, restore themselves over time, even without sleep. They can draw more power the closer they are to it. That is why we went up the fire escape when Casey was chasing us. I knew I had a better chance of winning up there."

"And you say that only works for females?"

"Yes, men have no access to power from outside themselves in that way."

Chuck was puzzled. He knew that he had been able to draw power from the moon. Sarah had no idea he had done so, and clearly regarded it as impossible. He decided to keep that piece of information to himself until he understood everything better.

"What? What is it, Chuck?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to process all this. So, your powers are sort of like bullets. You only have so many and you can run out? Unless you're a woman, and you use the moon to...reload?"

"You could put it that way, I guess." Sarah grinned at him.

"So, what do Casters do? Do you have jobs?"

"Well, most Casters live the lives of mortals, at least to a degree. Most Casters have jobs, ordinary jobs, houses, and so on. It is best to blend in. You know, burnings and hangings and all that tend to result from failing to blend in."

"Right, like _Monty Python_. 'She's a witch!'"

Sarah looked puzzled. "Who is Monty Python? Was he a Caster?"

Chuck waved her past the question. "Doesn't matter. I can tell you later."

"But some Casters, like me, Enforcers, serve as, well, sort of like Military Police."

"Huh?"

"Look, Chuck, not all Casters are good people. There are dark powers as well as light ones. There are Casters who use their powers against other Casters, and against mortals. There are Casters who find pleasure in evil, in pain, in death. My job is to stop such Casters. And the dark things they create."

"But you don't wear a uniform?"

"No, you could say that most of my work is undercover or covert. 'Underworld', in one sense of that term. Often, I have to insinuate myself into the lives of these Casters or of mortals who are leagued with them, so as to stop them."

"Like you insinuated yourself into mine…?"

That question hung there, giving voice to the shadows and doubts that flitted around all that had happened between them. Chuck wondered if she would answer it or bail on it. Emotions swirled in her blue eyes, but so many and so quickly that he couldn't discriminate them. She looked down at her hands for a minute. Then she lifted her eyes to his, blue to brown.

"Chuck, I know I have confused you and hurt your feelings. I know I have run hot and cold, sometimes from minute to minute, hot one minute, cold the next. I am sorry about that. I am going to try to do better, but I am going to have to ask you for some patience with me…"

"Oh, yeah, like that movie, _The Philadelphia Story_ : 'With the rich and mighty, always a little patience.'"

"Movie? You are feeling better." She smiled, half amused indulgence, half annoyed exasperation. "Look, Chuck, this is hard for me. All this is hard for me. But although I admit I walked up to you in the Buy More planning to play you, to manipulate you, from the moment I touched your hand, I was no longer planning to do that, no longer doing that."

"So when you kissed my neck just before Casey…"

" _I_ kissed your neck-that was...real."

Chuck decided to let it go. Patience, always a little patience. Like Jimmy Stewart with Katherine Hepburn.

"You are sort of like...a spy?"

"Yes, sort of."

"So, what can you tell me about the book, about _The Intersection_? What have I done to myself? What has been done to me?"

"Well, before anything I should tell you that one of the costs of power is clarity about your own free will. Most Casters believe that _all_ humans have free will; although, there are dark Casters who deny it. But a Caster's power works,...this is hard to explain...a seer would do a better job…, a Caster's power works _above_ their will. It is tied to the body, as I said, but it is also tied to the Caster's character, good or bad, strong or weak. Your power reflects what you are and what you do more than what you think or believe-at least consciously. It responds to what you really want or need, not to what you think you want or need. Because that is true, power is revealing. Using it, what it does, how it does it, all is a commentary on you, the Caster, on the kind of person you are."

"Sort of like a Caster would be surrounded by, say, a glow? A glow whose color was sort of like the color of...a mood ring? So that the Caster was, like, color-coded, good or bad or whatnot?"

Sarah looked at him in puzzlement. "Yes, I guess so. Except it doesn't work like that, really. Caster's don't glow when casting."

Again, Chuck debated about how much to tell Sarah. Again, he decided to keep the fact that he had seen her and Casey aglow to himself. He still felt too lost to know what it was safe to reveal and to whom. He wanted to tell her. He would tell her. He just needed to find the right moment and to leave this gnawing doubt behind.

"So, let's talk about what happened to you on the roof. When you accessed the power, did you feel it physically?"

"Yeah. Yeah, my eyes sort of rolled back in my head and I felt a sudden...fullness, kind of like I had good news I couldn't wait to share with someone else."

"Really?" Sarah paused and looked at him with wonder. "You felt like you had good news to share?"

"Yeah, all tingly and excited and bursting to tell…"

"So, there was no pain?"

"No, not exactly, I mean, it felt strange but not bad in any way. At least not until it was over and the headache set in. It was like I was awake, fully awake, for the first time in my life. 'The sleeper has awakened!' I saw things as they are, I guess I was...disillusioned but not disappointed."

"Did you have to strain to use the power?"

"No, although I could feel it begin to weaken. And I could, if I chose, turn it off. That's the phrase. Like when I released you."

"Ok. Good enough for now. Keep thinking about it and let me know if you remember anything that seems important. So, back to the book. No one knows the origin of the book. In our time, it has been most closely associated with a legendary Caster, Orion. I'm assuming his name was on the book - or do you not remember?"

"I remember that. His name was there."

"Well, no one knows much about him. It is unclear if he was a light or dark Caster, although I think he was a light one. He had a special sort of relationship with the book. He was not, so far as I know, chosen to read it, but he could read it-he just gained no powers from it. He made certain changes in the text of the book, or so it is said, and no one had been able to do that before. No one knows exactly what he changed, but it now seems like he may have changed the book so that a mortal could read it. He vanished years ago, and most Casters believe he is dead. I guess I do.

"The book is supposed to provide its Reader with a sense of how all things are interconnected, how all things are woven together in a tapestry, and it is supposed to make the Reader aware of the warp and woof of that tapestry. Like you said, the Reader is able to see past illusions, delusions, appearances-able to see what is and what is not. And typically (Orion being the known exception) the Reader also gets powers, powers that are superior to and importantly unlike the powers of Casters."

"What does that mean?" Chuck asked. "Superior to and importantly unlike?"

"It means that the Reader's power normally is too strong for other Casters and that the Reader has powers that no Caster has. Those powers seem to have varied from Reader to Reader. Some Readers could teleport on their own. No Caster can do that alone, and even two Casters together rarely try it. If that spell goes wrong, the teleported person goes splat or goes mad."

"Two not-so-attractive options," Chuck mused. Sarah smiled grimly in agreement.

"Some Readers have been prophetic, able to foresee the distant future. Some Casters, Graham, for instance, are prophetic, but only in a minor way, and a temporally limited way. They can see ahead for a few hours or for a few days, but no more, and they do not see much. Those Readers could apparently see across eons. Other Readers were able to work massive changes in the physical environment, to affect vast tracts of land or ocean or sky. I can affect small bits (you saw that in the club) but not much and not for long. The specific powers granted the Reader seem to be determined by who the Reader is, by the Reader's character. Most Casters can do the sort of thing you did on the roof, but only to mortals, not other Casters. So we have yet to determine what special power or powers reading the book has given you."

"I figure it is the power to say the wrong thing to you at the wrong time. That seems to be my power, unlike any Caster's power."

Sarah laughed and smacked his shoulder softly.

"Chuck, you have yet to say the wrong thing to me."

Chuck laughed too.

* * *

Sarah knew she needed to tell Chuck about The One Ring. But she was hesitant. They needed to get clearer out what the book had done to him. She was reticent to leave the ranch house until they knew a bit more. She knew he would be freaked out about Ellie and Awesome and Morgan, but Sarah felt confident that Graham's Casters could keep them safe, at least for a while. They just needed time together.

Sarah knew that a certain measure of selfishness was involved in her decision to stay, but she also knew that she was being honest with herself about the safety of Chuck, his family and friends. Sarah was not perhaps great at being honest with herself about herself, but protecting others was her business, and she knew her business.

Chuck had gone to his room to nap after their conversation, and Sarah had gone out onto the porch to sit on a deck chair and think. Chuck's description of what his empowerment felt like was so, well, Chuck. Nothing he said surprised her, although the basic goodness of the man his powers revealed filled her with wonder. He had felt filled with good news! Her baggage handler, indeed! She had, she now realized, all her life believed that truly fascinating people were always dark or partly dark or drawn to the dark. She had thought goodness simple, boring, predictable. But she now knew that was because she had known only people who were at best partly good or sometimes drawn to the good, but who were not truly good. Chuck's goodness was deep and complicated, not messy or bizarre; rather, it was multilayered and surprising. He was not simple, boring or predictable. She was very curious what powers the book had given him.

The thought of him just a few rooms away, lying in bed and sleeping, filled her with a warmth that radiated from her stomach all the way to her fingers and her toes. She knew she wanted him, and she was deeply tempted to go to his room and to begin again what she had stopped at the motel. But she had to think about him. Could he handle that on top of everything else? Was she really ready to commit to a serious relationship? She knew that she could not sleep with him until she knew the answer to that question.

She loved Chuck. She had told Graham the unvarnished truth, however unbelievable it was. But was loving him enough for her to commit to him, to face with him what he might be called on to face? Sarah curled her fingers into fists, fighting down her own feelings, her arousal. She needed to stay where she was. Going to his room would be going too far. Maybe _that_ would eventually happen. ( _Please, please, please…_ ) But not right now. He needed to rest. She needed to be sure of herself.

She also needed to understand his powers, to think of some way of calling out his powers. Well, some _other_ way of calling out his powers.

* * *

Chuck tried to nap but his mind was spinning, a whirligig. He had power. _He_ did. Stanford reject, Jill cast-off, Buy More Nerd Herder...loser. True, he didn't really know what power he had, and he had no idea how to control it. But he had felt so powerless for so long that it didn't really matter. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought that the biggest change in him, the real source of his new sense of power, was Sarah. Even with all her changeableness, all the mixed signals, he believed that at some level, she was not only affected by him but that she felt something real for him.

When he was a kid, he'd read a sci-fi story about a man who had been a loser, but who had come into possession of an automatic tiger-a robot tiger. In fact, the name of the story was "Automatic Tiger". Chuck had forgotten the author and a lot of the details, but what he remembered was how the man's knowledge that he had an automatic tiger at home had filled him with confidence, power. He had gotten promotions, began dating the woman of his dreams, and he kept telling himself: "I have an automatic tiger." But eventually the man began to neglect the tiger, began to ignore it, and it moldered. When he wanted it again, it collapsed and would not work. The automatic tiger's collapse foretold the collapse of the man's world. He lost his job, the girl, and was soon back where he had been. Sarah seemed like Chuck's infinitely better version of an automatic tiger, except of course she was also the woman of his dreams, a Caster. The mere thought of her filled him with an upsurge of power and confidence. And he would never neglect her or take her for granted.

Realizing this actually depressed him a bit. He should have told Sarah about being able to draw power from the moon, about seeing her and Casey all aglow, pale blue and fiery red. He would tell her, he knew. He just didn't want to tell her until he knew more about where they stood and more about what it all was supposed to mean.

* * *

A little before sundown, Chuck joined Sarah in the kitchen. She was washing vegetables for a salad. He stood leaning against the counter, watching her. He yawned.

"Did you get some sleep, Chuck?"

"I did. Eventually. There's a...bit on my mind." She smiled at that and nodded her understanding. Chuck continued. "What have you been doing? Did you sleep?"

"No, I was reading your book, the Austen, _Northanger Abbey._ Interesting choice. I hadn't read that one. I read _Pride and Prejudice_ in high school, I think. I hadn't realized she'd written a Gothic romance."

"Yeah, spooky, with an old abbey and mysterious fathers and dead mothers and all that stuff. Of course, most of it turns out to exist only in the heroine's fevered imagination."

"Do you think that all this will turn out that way for you?"

Chuck ducked his head slightly and gave a crooked, unsure grin.

"Maybe."

Sarah closed the distance between them, wiping her hands on a towel. She stopped just short of being pressed against him. She extended one hand and tilted his head back up with her index finger. He was staring down into her eyes. He could smell her, her light perfume, the fresh vegetables. The blue of her eyes flashed.

"I am not a figment of your fevered imagination, Chuck. I do though have some sense of how fevered your imagination currently is."

Just that quickly, she turned and went back to making the salad. Chuck exhaled hard, billowing out his cheeks. He could feel the burning red of his face. Fevered. Oh, yes, so fevered.

* * *

Sarah walked along the inside of the ranch house's fence line in the gathering darkness. She wanted to double-check the fence and the warding spells. She was satisfied. Everything was in order. She turned to walk back to the house, toward the light on in the living room, where Chuck was playing a game on the computer. He was a mortal, a mortal nerd. He was somehow all at once powerful and powerless, confident and diffident. He had changed her life without trying to, just by entering it. She could neither understand that or deny it. Sometimes good things happened. And sometimes they happened to you.

She almost skipped up the stairs of the porch and through the front door. She was going to spend a night here, with him. They had laughed and talked through dinner. They had drunk more wine than was wise. Neither was drunk, but each was warmed through, at ease. Sarah had been careful not to cross the line-she had not drunk enough to affect her judgment or her awareness. But she had drunk enough to allow herself to touch Chuck and to react to him unguardedly. To pat his arm, to bump his shoulder with hers, to smile at him from the very soles of her feet. She had no idea how long it had been since she felt like this. Maybe she simply never had.

With Bryce, there had always been the feeling that he was partly an encumbrance. She had enjoyed him, but there was always a bit of her that was relieved when they parted. There were parts of herself she kept closed when he was with her, closed to him and even closed to herself. She had not yet opened all the parts of herself to Chuck, but she knew she would do so when the right time came. She just needed time, time with him.

* * *

Chuck paused the video game when she entered the room. He looked up at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. She waved at him and skipped up the stairs to the second floor. She returned a few minutes later with a box under her arm. She went to the dinner table and began to empty the box. Chuck walked to stand beside her and looked down.

"A Ouija board? _Really_?" He gave Sarah a disbelieving glance.

"Look, did you know that magic was real a few days ago? No. Don't knock the board. It might just help us figure out what the book did to you."

Sarah put the board down on the table, along with the pointer. She pulled a chair up close to hers and gestured for Chuck to sit down. She sat too.

"I assume you, O Great King of Games, must know how this works," Sarah said, smirking. "You just put your hands…."

"Ok, very funny. Yeah, I know. Morgan and I spent a lot of time over one of these in junior high, hoping for some good word on a date for a dance, any dance. Or maybe on some good word about my parents." Sarah frowned, but said nothing, although she rested her hand on his shoulder for a minute.

Sarah was sitting on the moon side of the board, Chuck on the sun side. They rested their fingers on the pointer and Chuck looked at her.

"Well, ask a question."

"No, you ask."

"But I don't know what to ask."

"Start with something, you know, simple, not anything momentous."

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut in an exaggerated face of hard thinking. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes.

"I have one. Okay. Oh, Great and Mysterious Ouija Board, will Sarah Walker let me kiss her tonight."

Sarah giggled. She actually giggled at that. Chuck giggled in response.

"Wow, Chuck, I said not to ask anything momentous."

Chuck kept his eyes on the pointer. It began to move.

M. A. Y. B. E.

Sarah laughed. Chuck narrowed his eyes at her in mock annoyance.

"So, you couldn't find a Magic 8 Ball?'

The next thing he knew, Sarah was in his arms, kissing him as hard as he had ever been kissed. She tasted wonderful, wildflowers, honey, and vanilla all mixed with Sarah. He kissed her back just as hard. They remained locked to each other for a long time.

* * *

Some number of kisses later (who knew how many, exactly?), and with both steadying ragged breathing, they tried the Board again. Sarah asked the question this time.

"What power did the book give to Chuck?"

L. O. V. E.

"Chuck!" Sarah said in a soft but warning tone.

"What? I am not steering this thing. And I certainly never asked any Ouija Board to be my wingman. I don't know what that means."

"Clarify!" Sarah spoke to the board.

They waited but nothing happened. Chuck pursed his lips in disappointment.

"Worth a shot. Let me try something." Chuck looked a bit abstracted for a minute, then spoke.

"Why was a mortal able to read the book?"

N. O. T. A. M. O. R. T. A. L. C. H. U. C. K.

They looked at each other in surprise.

"So it isn't my being mortal that did it. It is my being...me?"

"I guess." Sarah was clearly trying to figure out what it could mean. "Are you sure you are mortal? Are you sure your parents weren't Casters?"

"Well, no, not 100%. But I don't think so. I really don't."

The pointer jerked under their fingers.

A. S. K. O. R. I. O. N.

"What question prompted that?" Sarah asked. Chuck shook his head.

"I never asked any question."

Sarah removed her hands from the pointer and Chuck followed suit. They glanced at each other but neither knew quite what to say. After a few minutes, Chuck spoke.

"I thought Orion was dead."

* * *

Beckmann was impatient, tapping her foot. She wanted an audience with Graham. But this was taking some effort. Communication internal to House members could be accomplished without overwhelming effort, and with a variety of spells or artifacts. But communication with members of other houses was harder. The spells did not always interface properly. The Casters had different habits, different expectations, different pieces of training. It was frankly easier to fight with members of other Houses than to cooperate with them.

But Beckmann had urgent news. She could not get information on where Sarah Walker had taken Bartowski. Beckmann could kick herself. She should have known that the Help Wanted sign being visible to Bartowski meant that Bartowski was no ordinary mortal. But she had taken it simply as another curiosity in the curious history of The Curiosity Shop. She should have known he had read the book though. How could she have let him walk out after that? Why hadn't she felt something? Too much in this whole situation was unknown, and it was driving her a little mad. She needed to talk to Graham. The One Ring mole in her House had given up a final secret before he died. One of the men on Casey's team, the team sent to get Chuck, had lived. Walker's spell killed the other. But the one who had lived had seen Bartowski. The man did not have Bartowski's name. Casey had never used it around them. Still, Bartowski's face was known. And it was known that he had last been seen with Sarah Walker.

Damn Walker. Graham's golden girl. His fixer. Why was she still involved? Why was she, presumably, hiding with Chuck. It was not her style. She was absolutely silent, absolutely deadly, if necessary. But more than anything, she was supposed to be cold. Unmovable. Emotionless. Even so, she seemed to be working to protect Bartowski in ways that were supererogatory, that went above and beyond the call of duty. Casey said she was compromised. He thought he saw her kiss Bartowski just before she had turned to fight. She had whispered something in his ear. And, on top of everything else, Bartowski had released Walker from his hold on her and he had run with her. All the available evidence suggested that something was going on between them.

Did that make any sense? Walker had only known him for a couple of handfuls of hours. And he was a mortal. A big box store nobody technician. Walker was not known for entanglements, and everyone thought it took someone like Bryce Larkin to interest her at all, a Caster's Caster, handsome and worldly and completely sure of himself. Bartowski was a...goof. A mortal goof. Surely, Walker...Beckmann made herself stop.

Had she acted so differently once upon a time? Hadn't she fallen for someone she should not have fallen for, someone everyone around her told her was a bad match, a bad bet? What good was it to have come so far as a Caster only to ignore the reality of the human heart, whether human heart was Caster or mortal? The great mortal philosopher, Pascal, said that the heart has reasons that reason did not know.

Pascal did not mean, Beckmann mused, that the heart kept secrets. He meant that the heart had a logic of its own, that what seemed to theoretical reason to be irrationality was not, in the final analysis, really irrational, except by alien standards, by the narrow, rigid standards of theoretical reason. By its own standards, the heart made steady, sturdy sense. Maybe Walker had found the one. Maybe Bartowski had too. Maybe that made this whole situation less frightening. Maybe it made it more frightening. Beckmann did not know.

Finally, an image of Graham flickered into unsteady life above Beckmann's table.

"Beckmann, is that you? This is Graham. Can you hear me? What's wrong?"

"I have a suggestion for the protection of Bartowski, Graham. I don't think you are going to like it, but I think you will accept it…"

* * *

Sarah was tossing and turning. The weirdness with the Ouija Board was part of it, but not the largest part. That they could worry about tomorrow. No, she was tossing and turning because she could not stop replaying the kisses she had given Chuck and that he had given her. She could not stop feeling his lips on hers, his tongue touching hers. She felt like someone had hollowed out her middle and filled it with banks of burning coals, banked it with hearth fires. She thought about getting up and taking a cold shower. That might stop the heat, but it would also wake her thoroughly.

Knowing Chuck was in his bed downstairs was driving her crazy. Knowing what would happen if she got up and went to his room was, well, she just couldn't let herself think about that. The kissing had maybe been a bad idea, but Chuck had been right there, and she had wanted it since they woke up, he had wanted it. And he had asked for it, really. She stopped it before it went too far, but she had not counted on its effects...lingering...for so long. Her body was a toothache of desire. She had never wanted anyone like this. She had never imagined that desire could swell to these dimensions, that it could claim her head to toe. When other people had told her about such experiences, she took it as poetic license, or as an outright fabrication. Now she knew. She was burning. Love was a consuming fire.

* * *

Chuck was supine on his bed, stock-still. He feared to move. If he let himself move, the movement would not stop until he was in Sarah's bed upstairs. He forced himself to count the ceiling tiles again. He knew how many there were, 49, seven rows of seven. He had counted them 22 times. This would be the 23rd. He knew he should be thinking about the book, his powers, Orion, Ellie, Awesome, Morgan. Sarah's kisses had blocked everything else from his mind.

He had never before faced a task of self-discipline so intense. He knew that Sarah was the one struggling with all this, that she was the one fighting battles. He was at peace. He was crazy about her. Maybe he even loved her. What did she feel? Something, clearly. Something strong enough to motivate those kisses. Was the problem that she was a Caster and he a mortal? Did that explain the hiccuping hesitancies, the mixed signals? The signals had gotten less mixed as the day went on. But he still did not know what she wanted from him, with him. From his point of view, her feeling anything for him at all seemed crazy. She was a beautiful woman. She was a Caster. He suspected, although she had not exactly said so, that she was a powerful and deadly Caster. She was an Enforcer, after all, the Enforcer. She was clearly special. Her status with Graham proved it. What was she doing in Barstow with him?

* * *

Sarah woke up. She did not remember going to sleep. She thought she heard footsteps outside. She immediately leaped from the bed and went to her window. She saw movement. She did not want to use her powers if she could help it; doing so might give her location, and so Chuck's location, away. So she reached into her nightstand and took out a pistol. She padded barefoot from her room to the stairs and then stopped to listen. It sounded like someone was at the door. And, then, there was a knock.

A knock? Sarah went down the stairs slowly. Her gun leveled at the door. A man was standing there, his arms raised above his head.

"I have a gun pointed at your head. There's no way you can get to a gun or cast a spell before I kill you. Is that clear."

"Clear." The voice sounded familiar. Keeping her gun trained on the man, Sarah reached over with her other hand to flip on the front porch light. Casey was standing there. "What the hell?"

"Let me in Walker. Graham and Beckmann sent me. You know that's true because without Graham's permission I could never have gotten to this door. And without Beckmann's order, I would never have come."

Sarah let Casey in and Chuck came out of his bedroom a moment or two later. Chuck looked at Casey, looked at Sarah, and then shrugged and plopped down on the couch.

"Well," he said, "this should be good."

"Why are you here, Casey?" Sarah asked the question flatly, with no particular facial expression.

"Like I said, Graham and Beckmann sent me. They've given me a full briefing on Bartowski. Everything they know, _everything_ you've told them."

" _Ok_ , but why did they send you?"

"I was looking for you anyway, and was not far from here, although I admit I would never have found you without Graham."

"Right," Sarah said, not hiding her impatience. "But why did they send you?"

"To help you with Little Miss Muffet there." Casey gestured in Chuck's general direction.

"Hey!" Chuck cried. "Leave my tuffet out of this."

Casey and Sarah both looked at Chuck. "Ok. Ok. I'll be quiet."

"I'm here because one of the members of my team is part of The One Ring. He survived your final spell in the club, and we think he got a good look at Curds and Whey here. We have lost track of him. My job is to join you two on...Team Bartowski." Chuck could hear Casey grinding his teeth. "That's Graham and Beckmann's title, not mine."

"I'm also supposed to help you figure out what...Bartowski can do. I have some experience with that too, as you know."

Sarah kept her neutral expression. She walked over and put her gun on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, near but not next to Chuck. She looked over at him and allowed him to see regret and frustration in her eyes, then it was gone.

"Ok, Casey. There is an extra room upstairs. That can be yours. We will talk more about this in the morning. We will decide what to do about Chuck."

"You know," Chuck interposed, "I am sitting right here. You two need me more than I need you. That's why it's Team _Bartowski_. Graham and Beckmann get it. I may not know exactly what I can do, but we all know I can do something, and likely something that will matter. So, let's be sure that the _we_ who does the deciding about Chuck includes _Chuck_." He got up and began to walk toward the bedroom. Casey grunted. Sarah quickly caught up with Chuck.

"Chuck, I never meant…"

"It's ok, Sarah. I know. I'm tired. I had hoped...But now…"

She reached out and put her hand gently on his arm.

"Me too, Chuck. Me too."

She watched helplessly as Chuck went into his room and closed the door. She stood looking at the door for a few seconds, then turned to Casey. She gave him a hard look, retrieved her gun, and then trudged up the stairs.

* * *

Casey rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. Eventually, he found the liquor. He poured himself a whiskey and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch where Sarah had been sitting a little while ago. Casey knew there was no good reason to antagonize Bartowski. He hadn't done anything wrong. He may well have saved Casey's life. Casey knew that Sarah might have killed him on that roof, and after the look she gave him before she went upstairs, he knew she might kill him tonight in his sleep. He had clearly interrupted something. He would ease up on the kid. A little.

Graham had explained that Sarah had made it clear that Chuck, and not the House, was her first priority her only priority. Casey had told Beckmann and Graham he was not going to join the team if the point was for him eventually to try to take Chuck or to kill Sarah. Casey had no interest in the double-agent shit. He was too old for it.

He wanted to do a job that was straightforward, no switchbacks, no curlicues, no betrayals. He had been in the Marines for a while, had been a part of a team-a team of mortals-and he had loved those guys. This lone wolf life Beckmann had recruited him into seemed like the next step, a promotion. And it was at first. But it felt like a demotion eventually. He wanted people around him who depended on him, who believed in him and whom he depended on and believed in in turn. He knew Walker's reputation. She was not normally a team player, but he also knew what he had seen on that roof, and what he had seen just a few minutes ago. Walker was not just on Team Bartowski-she intended to make it the case that there were two Bartowskis on the Team. Maybe she didn't know that yet, but Casey did.

Casey's time in the Marines had broken down the sometimes bitter but mostly casual prejudice against mortals Casters often indulged in. If Walker wanted a mortal, ok, she wanted a mortal. All good. That didn't mean he couldn't give her a hard time about it, of course, or twist Chuck some. The kid practically begged for it. He didn't just wear his heart on his sleeve, he ran around with it in his hands, offering it to anyone who seemed to need it. Casey admired that, at some level, and he had never shaken the memory of the peace and calm he felt when Chuck put him under the spell on the roof. To be honest, that feeling had been so overwhelming for Casey that he had been chasing Chuck and Sarah half-heartedly. If they hadn't gotten away, he would have let them get away. He hadn't really been trying hard to find them when Beckmann contacted him. Whatever the kid could do, he was no threat.

Now, Casey's job was clear, no matter how Graham or Beckmann chose to understand it. Keep these two powerful, lovesick people from getting themselves killed before all this could get worked out. This was it for Casey. He would never say the words out loud, though. _One last mission_.


	4. Chapter 4: Chuck Me!

**A/N:** From Barstow back to Burbank. Busy, busy. Thanks, as always, to those reading, and to those who've taken the time to review. If you're enjoying it, I'd enjoy knowing it.

So the tenth anniversary of _Chuck_ has come and gone. What a grand show it was (and is)! This story is a tribute to the show for all the pleasures it has given me over the years, by no means the least being the pleasures of reflection. For all its local flaws, _Chuck_ was a remarkably smart and a genuinely instructive show. It was was hopeful, and not in a shallow, optimistic way, but in a deeper, life-affirming way. It was, you might say, _metaphysically_ hopeful. Chuck's posture toward Sarah was always "I hope in you for us" and hers toward him was always the same. (Always? Yes, there's the swamp of S3, but even in that sucking bog, they manage to find each other again.) That's a lesson worth learning, a posture worth taking in your own life toward those you love. For rational finite creatures like us, humans, a good life requires faith, hope, and love, and each of those three requires each of the other two. _Chuck_ got that right (in an uncloistered way, of course).

So let's raise a glass together to a tv show that deserved better than it got, and continues to reward those who find it. Cheers!

I don't own _Chuck_. A few guitars, some books, some records. A few fountain pens...

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4 Chuck Me!**

Chuck was up first the next morning. He found Casey's glass on the counter and washed it. He put it back in the cupboard. He grabbed a couple of bananas and an apple and an orange from a bowl in the kitchen. He peeled them, and, although he could not match Sarah's knife skills, cut them up to make a fresh fruit salad. He washed some grapes from the refrigerator and threw them in. Then he made coffee and boiled some eggs.

Chuck felt bad about walking out on them last night. He did not want handlers. Teammates, sure. Handlers, no. He especially did not want Sarah in that role. But he had been petulant, childish. Sarah hadn't meant what she said the way he took it. He knew that before she said so. He had just been so tired, suddenly, and so fed up with not being able to understand his situation: all of it, her, the book, Casey, mortals, Casters, Houses, _her_. Things seemed better this morning. He had gotten some sleep. He hadn't had a headache in over a day. The world looked sunnier.

* * *

He had everything done and the table set by the time Casey and Sarah joined him, lured by the homey sounds in the kitchen and the smell of hot coffee.

"Good morning, team!" He gestured for them to sit. They did. He did. For a few minutes, the only sound was the sound of silverware against the plates and of the sipping of coffee. "Sorry about last night. I was being a big baby. I appreciate what you both are doing for me. I'll end the petulance."

"It's ok, Chuck. We know this isn't easy for you. We will both try…" Sarah shot a sharp glance at Casey, "...to be more sensitive." Casey grunted unreadably at Chuck. He did nod, though.

"So, what is the plan for today? What do we need to do?"

Sarah looked at Casey.

"Graham and Beckmann have put their heads together. I talked to Beckmann. They've thought of a couple of spells that we can use that may help us understand your powers better, Bartowski. The books we need are upstairs, and my power combined with Sarah's should be enough."

"But that much power? A lot more than a Communication spell. Won't that allow others to figure out where we are? Won't we send up a flare?" Sarah did not seem to like the idea.

"The library upstairs is heavily shielded. Graham wasn't happy revealing that. But he did. So long as we cast only in there, we should be undetectable."

"Are these spells safe, safe for Chuck?" Sarah asked, worried evident on her face.

"Well, you know that no Casting is perfectly safe, either for the Caster or for the object of the spell, Chuck in this case. But these spells are not especially dangerous. They are both scrying spells, although neither requires a crystal ball. We will be careful, Walker."

"Yes, we will." Sarah's lips were set in a firm line.

"It'll take me a couple of hours to get everything ready. Why don't you two take a walk or something? Get him out of my hair, Walker. You know that if he is here he will insist on being upstairs and it will be like setting up a spell in front of a five-year boy."

"Hey," Chuck laughed, "five-year-old sitting right here."

Casey took that as his cue to leave. He grabbed his cup of coffee, refilled it, and headed up the stairs. When he was gone, Chuck turned to Sarah.

"What do you say to a walk? This place is great, but I could use a little fresh air and a stretch of my legs."

Sarah answered with a smile. Chuck gathered up the breakfast dishes and washed them while Sarah returned to her room to shower and change. Twenty minutes later, they were walking together along the inside of the fence line. The late morning sun was warm but not hot. A breeze was blowing. It was a good time to be outside.

* * *

They walked in amiable silence for a few minutes before Sarah stopped and turned to Chuck.

"You know, you don't have to let us cast these spells. You don't have to be Graham and Beckmann's guinea pig. We might be able to find out some other way. We have the hint from the Ouija Board. By the way, let's keep that to ourselves for now, if for no other reason than if you tell Casey he will make your life, and probably mine, miserable."

Chuck snickered. "Yeah, I bet he would. I am willing to let you cast the spells. I trust you, Sarah. I know you will keep me safe. And I want to know. I'd like to go home, I'd like to see Ellie and Awesome and Morgan. I'd like to be able to help protect them if that were necessary. Maybe the spells will give me a better understanding of my power, or make me better able to control it."

"Ok, Chuck, then we will do it." Sarah reached out and took hold of one of Chuck's arms for balance, then used her other hand to slip off her sandals. She picked both up by the straps. "You know, you really are tall. I am a tall woman, but unless I am wearing heels, you are quite a bit taller than me. She stepped closer and looked up at him, making her point. Standing there, so close to him, with the sun shining on her hair and the breeze moving wisps of it about, she created a deep ache in Chuck's chest. He slipped the arm she had balanced against around her waist and pulled her to him.

"Sarah, you are lovely, indescribably lovely." As he looked at her, he saw her eyes stray from his eyes to his lips. He put his other arm around her and then kissed her slowly and gently. She dropped her sandals and put both arms up around his neck. After a couple of minutes, she ended the kiss and rested her head on his chest. He kept his arms around her.

"Chuck, I don't know what's happened to me, or how it has happened, or why. I don't know anything except how much I want your arms around me. How much I want to kiss you. No matter what happens from now on, never, ever doubt that again, please. Never doubt that I want to touch you and to be touched by you. To be with you." Sarah said all of this in a small voice, almost a whisper, and said it into his chest. But Chuck heard each word, heard them in his heart, with his heart.

"Sarah...I love you. I know it is too soon to say that; it's crazy to say that. But we don't know what will happen, and I can't stand the thought of you not knowing how I feel. I can't feel something this deeply and truly and not speak it."

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes wet. She held his gaze for a long moment, trembling in his arms, and then closed her eyes and hugged him hard. They moved to stand beneath a tree. They stood for a long time in the shade, beneath the tree and next to the fence, arms around each other, and talked together quietly. Eventually, they saw Casey on the back porch, waving to them to come inside. They walked back to the house hand-in-hand, Sarah still barefoot and carrying her sandals, swinging them in her other hand.

* * *

Sarah and Casey stood beside each other and in front of Chuck, who was sitting in a chair. Sarah and Casey joined hands, and then each reached out to take one of Chuck's hands. Casey mumble-grunted some Latin rhymes, and then Chuck felt the library begin to spin. But the three of them were motionless, like an axis around which the room turned. Chuck felt suddenly naked, exposed, and a sensation, like the sensation of being watched (but turned up to eleven), washed over him. It only lasted a few seconds, and then it was gone. The room began to spin more slowly, then it stopped. Casey dropped Chuck's hand, and then Sarah's. She kept Chuck's hand in hers.

Casey went to a book open on the table and paged around in it. Chuck looked up at Sarah and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"This spell was a spell that allowed us to determine if reading _The Intersection_ changed you or harmed you physically. Casey is interpreting the results."

Casey walked back to them.

"He seems fine, physically. No problems. Well, for such a _tall_ guy, he is surprisingly disproportionate…"

Chuck whipped his gaze from Sarah to Casey: "Hey!"

"But he is fine. It does seem like the spell had a physical effect though. His heart is larger, not enlarged, in the sense of a problem, but larger, stronger. His whole circulation system has altered to adjust. I doubt he can tell it during normal exertion, but I suspect it will make him physically stronger, increase his...stamina."

Casey widened his eyes in Sarah's direction when he said this. She blushed.

"Hey! Hey! _Short_ guy seated right here. Use my name and talk to me, Casey." Chuck couldn't look at Sarah. He knew he would call her blush, maybe raise her a few shades of pink.

Casey laughed. He went back and put the book on the table and then made some notes in a small notebook. Sarah and Chuck finally looked at each other, smiling in embarrassment.

"He's going to pay for that," Chuck whispered to her with a quick smile. Sarah nodded firmly and squeezed his hand.

"Ok. Time for the next spell. This is trickier. It is in a sense the same spell, but it scries your psychological state, not your physical one."

Chuck felt hesitant. "Uh, so you _both_ will be able to know what I am thinking?" He glanced nervously up at Sarah. "Everything?"

"Look, numbnuts," Casey growled, addressing first Chuck and then turning an amused look on Sarah, " _Everyone_ here knows what you are thinking...But, no, this does not get at the finer structure of your thoughts. That takes a spell far more powerful and far more dangerous. Think of this as just revealing the...gross anatomy of your psyche." Casey hit the word 'gross' a little extra hard. "The details will not be available, thank God."

"But when you guys use telepathy spells, " Chuck asked, suddenly curious, "isn't that reading minds?"

"No," Sarah explained, "because all that is available telepathically are thoughts you are willing to share. Again, it is like texting, but without a phone. And it does not reveal emotions. This reveals more, although, as Casey said, it does not reveal...everything."

"Oh."

Casey and Sarah did not join hands this time, but they both chanted. The room began to spin again, and Chuck suddenly felt like his mind was...crowded. Like too many people were trying to sit on a small couch. Then he had a sudden, intense period of vertigo. He blacked out.

"Chuck, Chuck!" Sarah was calling his name in some deep canyon. He could hear it echoing off the rocks. "Chuck!"

Suddenly, Chuck regained full consciousness. He was still seated in the chair, but Sarah had her hands around his face and her face, her eyes, close to his. He'd gone from black to blue.

"I'm ok, Sarah. That spell just had...a strange finish."

"Yes, when contact is broken, it sometimes affects people strongly. You're sure you're ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Well? What did you find out, Casey?"

"The results aren't as clear as I would like. As far as I can tell, your empathy, your capacity to suffer, your emotional sensitivity, they are all...larger. Again, I don't know that you will be able to tell the difference in ordinary situations. But the results suggest that the larger powers are available to kick in. So far as I can tell, all that reading the book did for you is give you even bigger lady feelings."

"Casey!" Sarah warned, doing a good impression of one of Casey's growls.

"Look, I was on the roof," Casey added, "I know that's not all. But we don't know much more than we did when we started. The changes are not dramatic, and they don't go in any direction I would have predicted. The book just made Chuck even more _Chuck_."

* * *

After they had a late lunch, Chuck returned to the game he had been playing the night before. Sarah followed Casey back up to the library, to give more thought to the situation and the result of their earlier spells.

After they had sat down, Casey turned to Sarah. "So, is there anything you know about Bartowski that I don't, anything that would help us to understand what's happened to him?"

Sarah shook her head. Casey narrowed his eyes. "Look, Walker, I understand that you are protecting him. I even understand that you may worry that will mean protecting him from me. It won't, but I understand you worrying about that. If I were protecting someone I felt that way about…" Sarah looked away from Casey for a minute and then turned back.

"Thanks, Casey. I mean, nothing's settled. I'm not sure what is going on between us. Not exactly anyway."

Casey looked skeptical but didn't press the issue. "So there is nothing you need to tell me about your time with him. Things he might have told you? Things you noticed?"

"No."

"But," Casey continued, "you did notice what that second spell revealed, right? Even without the details, that kid is absolutely full of you, Walker. You noticed that I take it?"

Sarah's breath caught in her throat and her eyes watered. "Yes, Casey, yes, I noticed."

"Well, if you don't know what's going on between the two of you, you either had better figure it out, pronto, or you need to tell him that you are confused. Because he is not confused, Walker. Chuck loves you. I have never seen anyone so full of anyone else. If you play him, or if he even thinks you've played him, there is no telling what will happen." Casey's tone had taken on the sound of a warning.

"I. Am. Not. _Playing_. Him. Is that clear? I know. I know that the way I am makes that seem like it is always a possibility. I can't help that. Well, maybe I can, but it will take time. I have to unlearn a lifetime of habits. But I want to, Casey. I want to be available to him in every way, including emotionally."

"And your hesitancy has nothing to do with him being mortal?"

"No! Nothing. I admit I had never considered...dating a mortal. But not because I was in principle opposed to it, I just had never met a mortal I would consider dating. I've hardly met a Caster I would consider dating."

"Yeah, but what about that? What about Larkin?"

"Well, what about him?"

"Bartowski is no Larkin."

"No, thankfully. The Bryce thing is done. He was a part of my past, but he is not a part of my present or my future. Chuck is part of my present."

"Is he also part of your future?"

"I want him to be, Casey. But I am worried. Not about him, about me. Can I change enough to be the woman he will be happy spending his life with?"

Casey frowned. He couldn't believe _he_ was sitting, talking to Sarah Walker, to _Sarah Walker_ , about her lady feelings. Casey's world had indeed scrambled like an egg, everything mixed up. But, though he wouldn't admit it, he really didn't mind. He was not the hatched-under-a-rock lout that his reputation made him. He had loved and been loved. He even hoped to love again.

"Look, Walker, all I know is that everyone has always agreed: _nothing is impossible for Sarah Walker_. I don't see any reason to question that. If you want a life with Bartowski, you will have it. We know he wants it. Hell, he's already imagining a white house with a picket fence and a red door. It was everywhere you were. What's up with that?"

Sarah smiled and shrugged. But as she got up, her mind went to what she had revealed to Chuck outside that morning, standing in his arms under the tree, about the home she had always wanted.

* * *

Morgan looked at the clock. He had decided that the one sure road to immortality was to be an hourly employee of the Buy More. Time simply did not pass for such folks. The problem was that being an hourly employee of the Buy More meant you got to spend your immortality in hell.

Morgan pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it. No text from Chuck. Nothing from Chuck. Where had the guy gone? Had he shacked up with the beautiful blonde? One part of Morgan hoped so. Goodbye, Jill, and good riddance. But another part of him was nervous. If Chuck and the blonde became a real thing, what room would there be for Morgan in his life? Morgan was Chuck's best friend, but he knew that they were unequally yoked. Sure, Chuck worked at the Buy More too. They had lots of the same interests and hobbies. Still, anyone who spent much time with Chuck had to know he was in the wrong place in the Buy More. He did not belong there. Morgan did. From Morgan's point of view, Chuck's friendship for him was a bit of grace, a favor bestowed on Morgan by a universe that mostly ignored him or gave him the finger. That was ok, though; he had Chuck. The best friend a guy could ever have. Except that he had, apparently, vanished.

Looking at his phone reminded Morgan that what he did have were several text messages from Ellie, Chuck's amazing older sister and Morgan's life-long crush and obsession (although he had been getting over that lately, he had to admit). Ellie had been panicky the morning after Chuck's date, but the panic had been mixed with excitement. Maybe Chuck had finally found someone after all this time. Goodbye, Jill, and good riddance. But when Chuck never came home and was gone the second night, Ellie wanted to call the cops. Morgan talked her down, but if Chuck didn't break radio silence soon, Ellie would turn this into a federal case. While Morgan was staring at the list of text messages on his phone, it rang. He jumped. He did not recognize the number.

"Hey, Morgan. This is Sarah-the woman Chuck met the other day. We went out the other night."

"Oh, right. Hi, Sarah. Sarah, where's Chuck? Everyone's worried, especially Ellie."

"Sorry, Morgan. Chuck's phone is dead and I couldn't get through to Ellie for some reason. Chuck's with me. He, uh, he spent the night after our date, and early the next morning I got a call that my Uncle John was very ill. Chuck offered to come with me, like the sweetheart he is, and so we're staying at John's house, a couple of hours out of the city. Chuck will call you himself soon, but right now he is sitting with my aunt. You know how good he is with people. She's already very attached to him."

"Yeah, yeah, I do. He's the best. He always knows what to say, or knows not to say anything."

"Exactly. Can you call Ellie and let her know. Sorry to have caused you to worry."

"That's ok, Sarah. Tell Chuck I said hello. I will call Ellie right now."

* * *

Sarah hung up the burner phone Casey had given her and looked at Chuck. He wasn't happy about lying to Morgan, and through Morgan, to Ellie. She and Casey had told him about The One Ring. He understood that he could not use his own phone and that that he and Sarah needed a cover story to make sense of where they had been and how things would be when they returned. They were about to return.

The situation had changed. One of Beckmann's watchers had found the Caster who had seen Chuck, the man who had survived Sarah's attack in the club. The man had been nosing around the apartment complex where Chuck lived with Ellie. Spells cast after the man had been taken captive revealed he had not contacted anyone in The One Ring. The guy was an ambitious twit who had hoped to capture Chuck himself and thus to rocket up The One Ring's hierarchy.

The plan now was for Sarah and Casey to bring Chuck home, and for Team Bartowski to use the resources of Beckmann's House to try to understand Chuck's powers. Since Chuck and Sarah were now together (even if that 'together' was not well-defined), it was best to cement that bond in Morgan and Ellie's mind. Sarah's calling Morgan for Chuck ought to accomplish that. Sarah would hold onto her apartment, and Casey would take an apartment in the same complex as Ellie and Chuck. Beckmann got Sarah a job at a Deli, Lou's, near the Buy More. For now, Casey would divide his time between a cover job at the Buy More, already arranged by Beckmann, and the Curiosity Shop. So, tonight would be the last night in the ranch house.

After dinner and coffee, Casey had made a production of getting a glass and a bottle of whiskey and, saying twice in a couple of minutes, "Turning in for the night."

Chuck and Sarah sat together on the couch, Chuck's arm resting on the back, behind Sarah but not touching her. Casey's all-too-obvious exit made them both self-conscious. What were they to do now? Sarah turned, putting the knee of one leg on the couch so that she could face Chuck.

"I should tell you something, Chuck. But I don't want to embarrass you or make you feel like I have (like we have) violated your privacy. When we cast the second spell, we couldn't scry details, like Casey said. But I was...everywhere...in your psyche. There was no way that either of us could fail to notice. I wanted to tell you, because I didn't want you to think I had taken advantage of you, knowing so much about what, uh, who is on your mind."

Sarah smiled sheepishly and waited.

"So you found yourself everywhere in my psyche? That's ok, Sarah, I am not embarrassed. Not much, anyway. I told you earlier today that I loved you. So isn't that in effect what I told you? That you are everything to me and everywhere in me? Isn't that what love is? You didn't see anything that I had not told you about already. I guess I just told you I love you in a different way during the spell."

"Chuck!" Sarah said his name like a prayer. She reached for him and pushed him down on the couch. She was prone on top of him and held his eyes with hers. "Chuck, I want to make love to you. But I don't want to confuse you or to confuse me. I want a future with you. I have every confidence in your part of that future. I don't have every confidence in mine. That's not because I am of two minds about a future with you, or because I have some reservation about a future with a mortal. It's because of my past; because of the girl I was and the woman I have come to be. I don't know if that woman has a place in any future that you deserve. So, I am not going to make love to you. I want to, so much. Look at me and know that is true. I can...I can plainly feel how much you want to. 'With the rich and mighty, always a little patience.' Let me work this out, work it out with you. Take me to your bed and hold me again, the way I woke up with you holding me in Barstow. Then tomorrow let's go back to Burbank and work out a future together."

Sarah pushed herself up and stood. Chuck stood too, then quickly reached down to pick Sarah up. She laughed into his shoulder. He walked with her into the bedroom and he saw a funny look in her eyes.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"No, really. What?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing Casey tomorrow, so I can tell him you are tall all over."

* * *

Sarah reveled in the thought of last night. It was wonderful. The motel was a surprise, unplanned, revelatory, but also disappointing. Last night, though, they went to bed and held each other. They talked about the last few days. Chuck told her about Morgan, and Morgan's role in helping him survive his mother walking out on him and Ellie. Sarah even told him a little about her childhood, enough for Chuck to have a sense of just how painful and shameful she found it. He didn't push, and she didn't offer much, but it was a start. Chuck rolled onto his back and Sarah fit herself against his side, her head on his chest. They basked in each other, in their closeness. After a little bit, before Sarah fell asleep, Chuck said her name softly.

"Sarah."

"Mmm...yes?"

"Sarah, on the roof. Two things happened that I haven't told you." He felt Sarah stiffen slightly in his arms, but she did not move otherwise. "I was able to draw power from the moon; I did draw power from it. And when you and Casey were beginning to fight, I could see you surrounded by a pale blue glow, and Casey by a pulsating red one."

Sarah did not say anything. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Why did you wait to tell me?"

"At first, I was just too confused to sort anything out. I thought maybe I had been dreaming. And then I wanted to understand all this better before I blurted it out. I wanted to understand us better. The longer I waited, the harder it became to tell you. I now have the feeling that it means something, but I have no idea what. But I am not going to keep things from you anymore. No secrets, no lies. Please don't be mad at me."

"Thanks, Chuck. I'm not mad." He felt the stiffness leave her. "No secrets, no lies. It does mean something, but I am glad you told only me. We will have to tell Casey soon, though. I don't know what to say about it, except this. You have done something no mortal is able to do: read _The Intersection_. You can communicate telepathically. You have apparently attracted the attention of a legendary Caster long thought dead, Orion. You have also done something no mortal and no male Caster has ever done, drawn power from the moon. And you have done something that only the greatest of Caster Seers has ever done, seen the uncreated light that surrounds those with power. You, Chuck Bartowski, are breaking down all the barriers that give shape to my world. If I didn't love... _If I didn't care about you so much_ , I think I would be afraid of you."

"I could say the same thing, you know, Sarah."

She was silent for a moment. "Yes, I know."

* * *

The next morning Sarah was the last one to leave the ranch house. Chuck was in the passenger seat of his car. Casey had already left. Sarah lingered in Chuck's room after he left. She wanted to remember waking up there earlier, waking up knowing she would be with Chuck. She wanted to remember the undemanding, loving way he had held her. She wanted to remember them whispering in the dark. She wanted to remember. It was a start.

She ran her hand down the length of the made bed. She did not want to go back to an apartment, but she couldn't very well come back to town with Chuck and just move in with him. That would be too fast for Ellie, not to mention too cramped. But it would also be too fast for her and Chuck. They were able to make it through last night. It had not been easy for either of them, as wonderful as it had been. And she was not going to expect Chuck, or expect herself, to remain in control indefinitely. She'd have to figure out how to manage all this without driving them both loopy with desire.

Casey had said that Beckmann wanted to meet with them that evening, to let them know all that she knew about The One Ring. Evidently, over the past couple of days, Beckmann had also fashioned a kind of base of operations for Team Bartowski, since running the Team out of The Curiosity Shop was not practicable. Beckmann's plan seemed to be to pit Team Bartowski against The One Ring. It was the kind of work Sarah knew well, the kind of thing that she mostly did for Graham. Speaking of Graham, he had lent Sarah to Beckmann for a while, to be part of the Team.

Sarah turned and looked at the room one last time. She hugged herself and made a promise: She and Chuck would soon have a bed of their own. She closed the door.

* * *

Sarah pulled the Toyota into traffic as they began their trip back to LA. It was another sunny day. She felt good, hopeful, even knowing how much uncertainty surrounded her and Chuck. For the first time in a long time, she was doing something not just because of duty or orders, but because her heart was in it, in this case, fully in it. Had she ever done anything because her heart was fully in it? She could hardly remember. But if she had, it almost had to go back to her childhood days. Some degree of self-division seemed to be present from around the time she and her father hit the road together. She had wanted that, wanted it badly, at first. Soon, though, even as young as she was, she began to recognize that something was off. She hadn't liked being taught to think of everyone but her father as a mark, as someone potentially to con or gull. She had wanted to make friends, but couldn't, when everyone's parents were fair game to her dad. That knowledge kept a distance between herself and her friends, so much of a distance that they never seemed really her friends, but more like pretend-friends. But keeping the distance between herself and them had the consequence of creating distance between herself and herself. She sometimes seemed like she had only a pretend-self.

It had been years since she had allowed herself to think about any of these things. But the changes in her Chuck created had made her feel like she needed to think about them. She had even told Chuck some of this last night. She could hardly believe it was her, her own voice small and shaky, sharing some of these painful things as she was wrapped in his arms. She felt warm all over remembering that, even remembering her confessions. Maybe, just maybe, if she could talk about some of this dark stuff it would lose its hold on her. She would feel lighter. She already did.

* * *

"Sarah, they are coming."

Sarah whipped her head around. Chuck's head was back, his eyelids fluttering, and his voice sounded just as it had on the roof. Sarah did not wait to react. She pushed the accelerator to the floor and swung the car into the left lane of the highway. In her rearview mirror, still at a distance, she saw two black SUVs. She knew such cars; they were a part of her life. Heavy, armored, with powerful engines. They would eventually close the distance.

Chuck still seemed to be entranced, but he was showing signs of coming around. "Sarah," Chuck's voice was almost normal again, "they are here to kill you and to capture me. I know that, somehow."

"Ok, Chuck. That isn't going to happen. Our only advantage is that those things behind us are as spry as Panzer tanks. Hold on."

Sarah pushed the car to its limits. They sped past other cars, weaving deftly and exactly from lane to lane. Chuck's head had cleared, but he had a horrid headache. He looked behind them. They still had some distance on the SUVs. It wouldn't last long, though.

"Uh, Sarah, you've got a plan, right?"

Sarah shot him a quick smile. "Open the glove compartment and get me the gun."

Chuck did. "How did this get in here?"

"I put it in the other night when I took a turn around the farm. Spells are great, but lead will help in a bind. Hold onto that until I ask for it."

Sarah slipped past a tractor-trailer and then pulled into the lane in front of it, slowing down to match her speed to it, so that she was only about a car length ahead of it. She partially left her lane, straddling the white line at the edge of the road. She held her position and began to chant. Almost immediately the first SUV went speeding past the semi. The driver did not see them until he was more or less even with them. Sarah finished her chant and yelled for Chuck to take the wheel. He did. She turned in the seat and made a gesture like she was pushing the SUV away. Chuck felt the power roll of her in waves. The side of the SUV caved in as the car went airborne. It landed in the median and flipped a couple of times before coming to a stop, in a shower of metal and glass and plastic.

Sarah grabbed the wheel. Chuck watched her shoulders sag.

"That took a lot out of you, didn't it."

"I don't think I can do it a second time." Sarah gunned the car. The second SUV had held back, in no hurry to face the same onslaught that had claimed the first.

"They've got a problem. They want to capture you. So their options are limited. They can't try to do to us what I did to them. They're going to try to force us off the road, force us to stop somehow. If they can get us out of the car, they can try to deal with us separately."

"How can we lose them?"

"We need to do something they can't. Hang on tight, Chuck!" Sarah swung into the leftmost lane and hit the brakes. There was a crossover coming up, and after it, into the far distance, the median was unnavigable. If they could make the turn, the SUV would not be able to follow. They could almost certainly escape. Sarah timed the braking and the turn of the wheel perfectly. The little car dipped and swung onto toward the cross-over. But, at just that instant, the front tire blew. Sarah lost control of the car. They bounced wildly through the cross-over and into the oncoming traffic. A semi was heading toward them and there was no way that they could avoid it. Chuck screamed Sarah's name.

[And suddenly they were sharing the space of the semi. They passed through it or it passed through them. Everything was translucent, wispy. There was no sound.]

And then the car was stopped on the wide berm on the opposite side of the road. Sarah looked at Chuck. He was slumped over in his seat, held upright by his seat belt. His nose was bleeding. He was breathing. Sarah hit the accelerator and the car shot forward. She could tell from the response of the steering wheel that the blown tire was somehow whole again. She sped out of the median into a gap in traffic and shot down the freeway. They had escaped.

* * *

Sarah took the first exit she felt was safe. She wound impatiently through side streets until she found a parking deck. She drove in and found an empty spot in a dark section of the second floor. She stopped the car and turned off the ignition.

Chuck was still slumped in his seat. He had not regained consciousness. His nosebleed had stopped, but not before it made a mess of his face and his neck and shirt. Sarah grabbed her bag from the backseat and pulled out a blouse. She carefully wiped his face, getting as much of the blood off him as she could. Not too much of the blood had soaked through his shirt into his undershirt, so she unbuttoned it and worked it off him.

As she did that, he began to revive. His eyes opened a bit. He was clearly disoriented. He looked at Sarah. "Pretty. So pretty. Blue, blue, you and all around you…"

"Chuck. Chuck, are you ok. Are you hurt."

His eyes focused and opened more. He looked around him and then back at her.

"Where are we, Sarah? Is it nighttime?"

"No, no, Chuck. I stopped in a parking garage. It's dark in here. You've been unconscious maybe twenty minutes."

"What happened? I just remember thinking that I had to save you. And then nothing."

"Chuck, you somehow moved us through the semi all the way to the opposite side of the road. And, just for good measure, you fixed the tire."

Chuck smiled. "I did? Dad taught me."

"No, Chuck, not that way. You just...thought it fixed, and it was fixed."

He looked like he only half-understood. Sarah's panic, held at bay for so long, suddenly gripped her. She began to cry and to have a hard time catching her breath. Chuck took her hand and rubbed the back of it.

"It's ok, Sarah. I'm ok. You're ok. But my head is pounding. Can we stop for aspirin?"

She nodded. She sat there for a few minutes, concentrating on the feeling of his hand on hers and on regularizing her breathing. Then she started the car. After a stop at a gas station, where Chuck cleaned up in the restroom while she bought them aspirin and bottles of water, they made their way back to LA. Sarah had gotten a look at the Caster in the passenger side of the car she destroyed. She had seen that man before. She was pretty sure she knew where she had seen him. The memory made her blood run cold.

* * *

Sarah drove to the Buy More. She was worried about taking Chuck home or to her apartment. But she also needed to talk to Casey and to Beckmann. They had a big problem.

{Casey!}

{Yeah, Walker. Where are you?}

{In the parking lot outside the Buy More. You?}

{I'm in Cave, beneath it. Beckmann found it and her folks worked overtime to make it...hospitable.}

{How do we get there?}

{Probably best to drive around to the loading bay. Come in the back and go into the employee break room. Touch the wall next to the lockers.}

{Ok. See you in a minute.}

* * *

Sarah stepped onto the stairs that appeared when the break room wall disappeared. Chuck followed her, his eyes big in his head. The steps were stone and clearly freshly cut. Small orbs of light dotted the wall, but a large central orb supplied most of the illumination. In the large central chamber, there was a stone table surrounded by wooden chairs. Against the wall at the end of the table were several large monitors with computer stations beneath them. On the wall to one side of the table was another table, with a bowl of water like the one Chuck has seen in the ranch house library. Beside that table was a bookcase stuffed with ancient-looking volumes. The wall on the other side of the table had two openings in it, and Chuck could see that each lead into a passageway dotted with orbs like the ones beside the stairs.

"Has this always been here?" Chuck asked in hushed awe.

"Of course not, moron." Casey shook his head in disbelief. Beckman found the central cavern with an earth-scrying spell. She sent a team of Caster Builders and they created the place. It took a bunch of them and all the power they had. They worked through the night and brought in the hardware after the place was empty. Damned impressive job."

"Yeah, yeah, " Chuck agreed breathily, still staring around him, "and so this is for us, Team Bartowski."

"Yes. But don't plan on buying Team t-shirts."

Sarah had gone to the table and touched the water in the bowl, then touched her forehead. In a moment, an image of Beckmann floated above the water. "Sarah, you've made it. I trust your trip was uneventful?"

"No, it was eventful, unfortunately," Sarah told the story of what happened on the road. As it ended, Casey was staring at Chuck in disbelief. Beckmann looked somehow both excited and nauseated.

"One other thing," Sarah said as she wrapped up the report, "I saw one of the men in the SUV that wrecked. I have seen him before. He belonged, belongs, to the Belgian's House."

Beckmann's nausea now clearly eclipsed her excitement. "But, Sarah, that can't be. That House was destroyed, all its members are dead or worse. No one belongs to that House. There are no members. There is no House."

"I saw what I saw. I'm sure, dead sure. Could the Belgian be the ultimate source of The One Ring?"

"If he is still alive, anything is possible. Let's hope not. No Caster other than Orion has ever been as powerful as the Belgian. I am going to have to talk to Graham and to the heads of the other Houses. If the Belgian is still alive, something is rotten in Denmark."

Chuck laughed out loud, but the look he got from Sarah and Casey told him that Beckmann was not trying to be funny.

"Uh, sorry."

"We will return to this topic soon. Right now, I want to know more about what you did, Bartowski. How did you do it?"

Chuck shrugged in ignorance.

"Sarah, did he teleport you from one side of the road to the other?"

"No. The few times I have teleported, the translation was nearly instantaneous. I was one place, I was then in another. But whatever Chuck did, the translation was in real time, I experienced it as it happened. We were still in time but not..or not exactly...in space. I could see the truck as we passed through it, but it had become...well, almost hologram-like. There was no sound. It was sort of like being in slow motion, although I don't think we were. It's hard to describe."

"Well, I will put our Seers to work on it. Do you have anything to add, Bartowski?"

"Um, I don't know. All I am sure of is that when these things have happened, when I have done something, I have only had an end, a goal, in mind. I imagined no means to the end. But I wanted the end, and my power supplied the means. I wonder if that shows that my power is a power for obtaining things that I want, or want badly enough, or want for the right reasons. I don't know, I'm new to all this."

"No, Bartowski, that is actually a quite cogent bit of speculation. Maybe we have been thinking about this the wrong way. Instead of thinking of your power as a means that can accomplish various ends, maybe we should think of it as a certain kind of desire for a certain kind of end that then creates the means to it. Less like, say, having a car and then trying to decide where you want to go, and more like wanting to go to a particular place and having that want create a way to get there. That's what you have in mind, right?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, ma'am. I mean, may I call you Beckmann?"

Beckmann actually smiled just a bit at that. "Yes, Chuck. I told you my name when I hired you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. That just seems so long ago."

"Yes, it does. One last question. How did you know the SUVs were coming? How did you know the plan to kill Sarah and capture you?"

"Again (and I'm sorry) I don't know. I just got a feeling, and then I knew what was they were planning."

"Ok. Well, we all have lots to do. I will check in with you tomorrow morning at 9 am. I should have a plan for a first operation against The One Ring by then. And maybe I will know more about the Belgian."

* * *

Ellie was home when Chuck and Sarah finally got to the apartment complex. Chuck was overjoyed to see her. He practically sprinted to her after he unlocked the door and saw her sitting on the couch. She stood and threw her arms around him.

Sarah was struck at once by the similarities. They were both attractive, dark hair, dark eyes. The intelligence of each shone through their eyes, as did their fundamental kindness.

But as Ellie opened her eyes after squeezing Chuck hard, Sarah could see that the kindness gave way to curiosity and...a hint of suspicion. That hint seemed a stranger to Ellie's eyes. She certainly did not have a suspicious nature, Sarah realized. But it was there.

Chuck unwound his arms from his sister and stepped back so that Ellie could see Sarah.

"Ellie, this is Sarah." Chuck could barely contain himself. Even knowing that Ellie was going to be angry with him, he was so excited for his sister and Sarah to meet. He knew they would like each other, and he knew, once Ellie got over being angry, that she would be overjoyed for him. He just wished he could tell her everything.

Ellie walked to Sarah and looked at her with a disconcertingly appraising look.

"So you are the woman who has turned my brother upside-down? I understand that now." Ellie opened her arms and suddenly Sarah was getting squeezed as Chuck had. Sarah wanted to squeeze Ellie back, but the hug happened so suddenly she had no time to react. Ellie stepped back and looked at Sarah again. "I don't know that I have ever met a woman as beautiful as you are, Sarah. Are you an actress, a model?" The way Ellie said 'actress' and 'model' made it clear that Ellie was hoping for a negative answer in both cases.

"No, neither. Although I am flattered you think I could be either. No, I am at the moment working at a sandwich shop near the Buy More. Lou's. Do you know it?"

"Oh, sure! And I know Lou a bit. She's had a bit of a thing for this guy for a while, " Ellie said, tilting her head in Chuck's direction, "but I could never get him to ask her out. She even named a sandwich after him. But my brother! The woman eats The Chuck Bartowski every day at lunch, and Chuck is too diffident to ask her out." Ellie said all of this in a breathless rush. Again, this was not the way she ordinarily talked, Sarah could tell: she was relating all this for Sarah's benefit, to see Sarah's reaction. Knowing that did not allow Sarah to prevent her reaction. She felt herself tense and could feel pink spots on her cheeks. The truth was that what Ellie told her made her chest tight and made her cheeks burn. Jealousy flamed through her. Her boss wanted Chuck? That was going to complicate things. Sarah tried to regroup.

"Oh, well, I don't know Lou well, or the menu. I really haven't even started yet. I just moved here and am still getting...established."

"Well," Ellie said, with a smile that appeared only on her lips, "you seem to have moved in quickly."

"I didn't bring much with me," Sarah said, knowing that would provoke puzzlement in Ellie. It did. "I met Chuck just after I got hired. My phone wasn't working and he fixed it. We had a great time the other night, " Sarah blushed at the way that sounded, though of course what Ellie would think that meant was not what it meant, "and (as I hope Morgan explained) I got a call the next morning that my favorite uncle was seriously ill. I was so upset, but I wanted to go to see him, and Chuck volunteered to take me. He made it all so much better. And my uncle seems to be on the road to a full recovery. I'm really sorry that we made you worry. We would have called today, but we knew we'd be home soon. And we couldn't get Chuck's phone to work, and mine would barely get a signal. I probably need to change carriers now that I live here." Sarah finished with a repentant smile, asking for Ellie's forgiveness.

Ellie, though, was not in a mood to forgive yet, although Sarah's visible jealousy at the information about Lou had gotten rid of the hint of suspicion in Ellie's eyes. "I still don't understand how technical difficulties could have kept Lord Nerd Herd here," Ellie again tilted her head at Chuck but kept her gaze on Sarah, "from being able to get in touch with me directly. But, seeing you, I guess I can not only understand, I even think it likely that he would short-circuit for a day or two. Ok. No harm, no foul. But you should both apologize to Devon too. He loves Chuck, and I think he was as worried as I was."

Ellie turned back to Chuck. He walked to her and gave her another hug. "Thanks, sis. Sorry. We'll apologize to Devon."

* * *

Sarah had spent the hour before her shift started at Lou's talking with Chuck and Casey and Beckmann. There was no new information on the Belgian, but Beckmann was clearly more convinced today than yesterday that he was still alive and somehow in the picture. She said it was just a hunch, but that it kept growing stronger.

The Seers tasked with working on the nature of Chuck's powers were doing just that, but they had as yet no theories to offer. Beckmann did have a task for Team Bartowski. The Caster who had been caught sneaking around Chuck's apartment complex had been sponsored for the House of Beckmann by a Caster named Shaw. At the mention of the name, Casey grunted forcefully. Everyone turned to him.

"Shaw's an ass. As stiff as a Ken doll and just as anatomically incorrect."

"Shaw has an exemplary record as a member of the House, Casey. But, even so, I find it puzzling that he would have sponsored this man. Shaw's permanent residence is a penthouse downtown."

Chuck whistled. "Rich, huh?"

"Family money," Casey growled. "He inherited it from his wife when she was murdered. The last I knew, he was spending all his free time on a bent quest to avenge his wife."

"Well, I want you to visit his penthouse. I have scheduled a meeting between him and an informant for later tonight. The informant claims to have information on the murder of his wife. The information is genuine, but it will turn out to be information Shaw already has. The meet is on the other side of town. You should have at least an hour to scour the place. See if you can find anything that links Shaw to The One Ring or to the Belgian."

* * *

Sarah had to hustle from Cave to the deli. When she got there, Lou poured them both a cup of coffee and had Sarah sit down. She had Sarah fill out some paperwork. They talked about the schedule Sarah would prefer, and then talked about policies. Lou clearly took two things very seriously: the quality of what she sold and the satisfaction of her customers. She explained that the shop was usually a madhouse from 11 am-2 pm. Mornings and afternoons were much slower. The shop opened at 7 am and closed at 4 pm. Lou stressed several times that even during lunch, especially during lunch, it was important to get orders right and to be sure customers were happy.

That last was a lot to demand, but it was one of the reasons that lunch was a madhouse. If the madhouse were not managed correctly, the deli would never survive. Pastries, cakes and coffee and so on helped to keep the doors open, but it was the sandwiches sold at lunch that did the heavy lifting.

For the next hour, Lou showed Sarah around the shop and then had Sarah make a couple of sandwiches, so that she could begin to get used to where the ingredients were and so on. Lou set the sandwiches aside for her and Sarah to eat after the lunch rush.

Sarah was disposed not to like Lou after what Ellie had told her. But Sarah couldn't help liking her once in her presence. She was smart, funny and pretty. And tiny, but clearly mighty. Sarah really couldn't seriously fault Lou for finding Chuck attractive. Lou didn't know that Sarah was in the picture. Sarah wondered how things would go after Lou knew.

* * *

It turned out that question was not long getting answered. As Lou and Sarah finished up, Chuck came in. He had a piece of paper in his hand and a wad of cash. He had come with lunch orders for folks at the Buy More. He had come early to beat the rush. He had also come, Sarah could tell from his glances at her, because he just couldn't stay away. That made Sarah smile.

When Lou saw Chuck, she quickly came around from behind the counter. She grabbed the paper from Chuck's hand and gave it to Bob, who Lou had introduced as the world's fastest sandwich maker. Bob set to work. Lou called out to Sarah.

"Sarah, let me introduce you to the inspiration for my best sandwich."

Sarah walked around the counter. She could tell that Chuck was unsure how to handle the situation. He would follow Sarah's lead.

"Hi, Chuck! I didn't expect to see you until later."

Confusion crossed Lou's face.

Chuck, unable to help himself, shot Sarah a wide smile. "Hey, Sarah. Well, the Buy Morons were hungry and I decided to get sandwiches before the whole place fell into a cannibalistic frenzy. Can't have the Nerd Herd eating its own young."

Sarah laughed and then realized that Lou was trying to catch up. Chuck noticed it too.

"Oh, Lou, Sarah here, she is...uh, my…"

"Girlfriend, Chuck. That's the word you are looking for." Sarah shot him a quick, meaningful and happy glance. She wanted him to know that was the right term: 'girlfriend'. _I am Chuck Bartowski's girlfriend_.

Just as that thought sent a rush of warmth through Sarah's core, it chilled Lou's. Her face fell.

"You two are...an item? But, I thought...I hoped…Um, I'm happy for you guys. You make a striking couple. Do want to take a break, Sarah?"

Sarah misunderstood for a moment, and she frowned. Then she understood. She also realized she would be doing Lou a favor since Lou was looking for some way out of the predicament.

Sarah reached demurely for Chuck's hand and led him outside to one of the small tables. They sat down, and Chuck glanced back into the shop sympathetically. Sarah fell for him again in that moment.

"You just have to let her get used to the idea, Chuck. She had other plans for you. That sandwich wasn't just her being nice, it was her way of granting you her favor, of marking you as her intended."

"Really?"

"Why would you find that hard to believe? She's a smart, impressive woman. Why wouldn't she want you?" When Chuck shrugged helplessly, Sarah put her hand on his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You know, Chuck, this weird 'league' thing that you and Morgan like so much, "She's out of my league!", and so on, all that is just so much crap. Even worse, it is borderline misogynistic crap, although I know you don't mean it to be. Look, a woman is as fully a person as a man, I am as fully a person as you. Do you only care about a woman's looks, Chuck?"

"No, I don't."

"So why would you believe that a woman you like for more than her looks couldn't like you for more than yours? Why would she have to be more superficial than you are? Or are you wrong when you say that you don't only care about a woman's looks?"

"No, I am not wrong."

"You like me for more than my looks?"

"Yes."

"But you also like my looks?"

"Yes."

"I like you for more than your looks, but I like your looks. So unless you secretly think all women are superficial, or unless you really are superficial yourself, you should recognize that someone (me, for instance) could care for you in a way that involves no thoughts about 'leagues'. And if we are going to have to use baseball metaphors, I am in a league of my own, Chuck, and so are you; and, I don't know about you, but I'm all in favor of interleague play."

Chuck sat in rebuked silence for a moment, then recognized her joke and laughed.

"Hi-ho! Batter up!" He leaned in quickly and stole a kiss.

"Chuck!"

* * *

The rest of the day with Lou was strained, but not bad. Lou had been watching them through the window, Sarah knew that Lou had been watching, and she knew that Lou saw what Sarah saw too. Every look and gesture of Chuck's was a look and a gesture of a man in love. Lou was a good person; she wanted Chuck to be happy. She had hoped to be an important source of that happiness, but she wasn't going to begrudge him his happiness because she wasn't involved. Sarah could see this all playing across Lou's features when she thought no one was watching.

For her part, Sarah was sorry for Lou, or at least as much as she could be consistent with her own happiness. The jealousy Sarah felt had gone dormant. She wanted to get along with Lou. She hoped that this would not prevent them from becoming friends. As the day came to an end, Lou and Sarah walked out of the deli together. Lou stopped.

"Sarah?"

"Yes, Lou?"

"How long have the two of you been together?"

"Not long. Really just a few days, I guess. It's all pretty new still."

"What's it like? Being Chuck's girlfriend?"

Sarah never talked much, if at all, about her emotions, although she had certainly been doing a lot more of that in the last few days, even with _Casey_. Sarah was beginning to understand that part of having proper emotions was avowing them, to yourself at least, and sometimes to others. She looked at Lou. The question seemed motivated by a genuine curiosity, with perhaps an admixture of regret.

"Lou, I don't want you to think I am rubbing this in your face. I'm not. I like you and I hope the fact of Chuck doesn't prevent us from getting to know each other and maybe becoming friends. That said, it wouldn't be fair to you or fair to Chuck except to tell you the truth. Being Chuck's girlfriend is great, the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's...magical, really. Chuck is a great guy."

"I think so too," Lou confessed, "I had been hoping for a while that he was interested in me. I guess I sort of knew he wasn't, or wasn't seriously. I mean, if you name a sandwich after a guy and he still doesn't ask you out, that's got to be a sign, right? But I have gotten to know him and I not only like him, I admire him and am protective of him. The way he looks at you...I would have given a lot to be the one he looks at like that. Don't hurt him, Sarah."

Sarah reached over and took Lou's hand. "I am not planning on it, " she said softly. "For what's it's worth Lou, I know I am the lucky one."

"Yes, you are lucky, Sarah. But from what I have seen today, so is he. And just so you know, having to watch the two of you together is a little like falling into a cotton candy machine, all soft and pink and sickening."

They both laughed and Lou squeezed Sarah's hand. "I think we will be friends, Sarah."


	5. Chapter 5: Pent Up, Penthouse, Pent Down

**A/N** : A shorter chapter, to bring _Book One: Intersections_ to a close. Although I am working _sans_ beta on this, I wanted to mention my friend, **2old2write** , who kindly agreed to look at this when about all that existed was _Book One_ , and who made me believe it good enough to share. I know him from outside this site, and he is aces. I thank him heartily.

I don't own _Chuck_.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 5 Pent Up, Penthouse, Pent Down**

Neither Sarah nor Casey had told Chuck to stay in the car. But Casey had told him not to touch anything and to stay out of the way. Shaw's penthouse could only be reached by elevator. Sarah had gone ahead of Chuck and Casey to talk to the doorman. After a moment, she waved for them to join her. She thanked the guard as the three of them entered the building.

"What spell did you use? It was so quick and powerful."

"It's called my smile, Chuck."

"That's what I figured. Poor guy had no chance, " he said, himself smiling at her.

"Shut up, you two, " Casey growled as they got on the elevator. Sarah giggled behind her hand.

Casey mouthed some words inaudibly and put his hands toward the bank of buttons, palms outward. The bank was suffused for a moment with a golden glow. The penthouse button continued to glow after everything else stopped. Casey looked at Sarah.

"Like we figured, there's a warding spell on the button."

Sarah nodded. "Well, let's see if we guessed right." Sarah passed her hand over the penthouse button and said 'Evelyn' as she did. The button stopped glowing.

"Was that…?"

"Yeah, his wife's name. Obsession makes you predictable." Casey punched the button and the elevator began to climb. "Stay on the elevator when the doors open. We will have to be careful. There may be more wards or traps upstairs."

* * *

When the elevator doors opened, Shaw's apartment lay open before them. It was fancy, Chuck immediately noticed, in a _Yes I can afford an interior decorator_ way. The items visible in the lamplight were individually lovely, expensive, but they belonged together more in terms of their colors than in terms of what they were or what they were for. Casey repeated the procedure he used on the bank of buttons, this time with his palms outward toward the apartment. There was again a brief golden glow, then it went out, except for the Turkish rug that stretched across the floor in front of the elevator. Casey looked at Sarah again. "What do you think?"

Sarah waved her hand over the rug. "Evelyn." The glow subsided.

"Good God, man," Casey griped as he stepped into the apartment. "Let the poor woman rest in peace."

Sarah and Casey headed toward different sections of the apartment and began rummaging around carefully. Chuck walked in looking around slowly, his hands jammed in his pockets, trying to keep himself from idly touching things. He noticed that Shaw had a few books on a shelf, and so Chuck wandered to them. When Chuck got close enough, he could see that there were several self-help books, including a much-handled copy of Dale Carnegie's _How To Win Friends and Influence People._ There were also a couple of books on investing. The only fiction was Ayn Rand's _Atlas Shrugged_. Chuck noticed that there was one thin volume turned backward among the others, so that its spine could not be seen. Chuck slipped it out. _How to Cope With Erectile Dysfunction_. Chuck blushed. He felt sort of bad for the guy. Dead wife, dead…

As Chuck moved quickly to put the book back in its place, a picture fell out of it and landed face down on the floor. Chuck bent down to pick it up and turned it around.

"Oh, boy!"

Sarah moved quickly to Chuck's side, the side of the hand in which he held the picture. Casey moved to Chuck's other side. He noticed the book Chuck was holding.

"No, Chuck, you can't borrow that book."

Chuck didn't hear the crack. He was staring hard at the picture. Sarah looked at it and then looked at Chuck.

"Sarah," Chuck asked in a tight voice, "why does Shaw have a photograph of Jill?"

Chuck looked more carefully at the picture, not noticing Sarah looking at him as he did so. Chuck was reasonably sure the photograph was recent. Jill looked very much herself, but older. There was something about the way she was standing. She was wearing a pastel floral print dress and had her hair pulled back into a long ponytail. She was at an outdoor party somewhere. She wasn't smiling, but he face held a hint of mischief, a look Chuck knew was typically only shared with someone she was close to. Chuck was suddenly certain from the way she was standing and the look on her face that she was sleeping with the photographer, whoever that was. He waiting for the familiar toothache of jealousy he always felt when he thought of Jill intimate with someone else. It never came. Chuck handed Sarah the picture.

"Well, this is weird. And unexpected. I'm guessing that Shaw took that photograph-and if he did, they were sleeping together when he did."

"How do you know that, Chuck?" Sarah looked more closely at the photograph, scanning it carefully.

"Because I know-I knew-Jill. She has an...intimate look she saves for...certain people. She's not giving that look to the camera. She'd given it to whoever it was who took the photo. Although her look is complicated; yeah, intimate, but also uncomfortable? I don't know. Anyway, since it is a print, and since it is tucked into Shaw's...uh, book, " Chuck waved it so that Sarah could read the cover, "I'm guessing he was the photographer."

Casey reached out a hand toward Sarah, and she handed him the photograph.

"So, who is this _Jill_?" Casey asked.

"She's Chuck's old girlfriend," Sarah said.

"Let's save the trip down memory lane until later. Put the photo back, Chuck, maybe it's part of Shaw's...therapy." Casey pointed at the book, still in Chuck's hand.

Chuck tucked the picture back into the book and replaced the book spine-in on the shelf.

Casey went off to finish the search, but Sarah put her hand on Chuck's shoulder.

"Ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am. You know, I never understood what went wrong with us at Stanford. I mean, maybe she left because of my expulsion, but I never felt like that was it. Something else explains it, or someone else. Anyway, I used to spend...a lot of time...trying to figure it out. The mystery of it all made me more hurt and angrier. But I can honestly say that now, seeing that picture, I just don't care about it anymore. It's a sad part of my life that is over. And it is over because of you, Sarah. Goodbye, Jill, good riddance."

Sarah stared into his eyes hard for a moment, and then she smiled broadly.

"I'm really glad, Chuck. And thanks."

"For what?"

"For choosing us-our future-over your past." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He was about to deepen the kiss, but she pushed him away with a sigh. "Later, we don't have much more time and we need to finish before Shaw comes back."

Sarah had no more than said the words when her phone buzzed.

"What? When? Ok, we are on the move. Chuck, Casey, Shaw left the meet early. He suspects something. That was Beckmann. We need to go."

Sarah and Casey moved efficiently through the penthouse, making sure everything was as it had been. Chuck started toward the elevator then noticed a small glass case on the mantle over Shaw's fireplace. In it were a collection of Zippo lighters. But none looked collectible. All were worn and battered, some scorched here and there. Chuck shrugged to himself and was about to join Sarah and Casey in the elevator when one of the lighters struck him. It had a strange design carved into it. As he looked closer at it, Chuck felt wobbly and then felt his eyes rolling in his head. When he looked back at the lighter, it seemed somehow to be surrounded by a blackish light. Chuck could feel the malevolence of the thing. He steadied himself against the mantle. After a minute, he was able to walk. He joined Sarah and Casey in the elevator, and Casey punched the button for the first floor.

"No need to run into Shaw in the lobby. We get out on the first floor and take the stairs to an exit. What happened in there, Bartowski?"

Sarah had her arm around Chuck and was looking at him with concern. "Did you see something, something else?"

"Yeah, I did. But I will tell you once we are back in the car."

* * *

Beckmann was actually, physically, present in the cave when they returned. They told her what they had found, dwelling for a long time on the lighter. Beckmann pushed Chuck for a better description of the design cut into the lighter. Beckmann and Casey took the news that Chuck could see uncreated lights in stride, even though disappointment very briefly showed itself on Casey's face.

"I know that design," Beckmann said. "It is an ancient emblem of the Belgian's house. Few would ever recognize it. The lighter, along with the photograph, strongly suggest that Shaw is connected to the Belgian. It would make sense, the Belgian preys on the broken."

"But what about the black glow?" Chuck asked.

"Right. Yes. Well that, believe it or not, is the worst news, for Shaw, at least. The lighter is some kind of artifact or it contains one, some old evil. If Shaw in his state has been handling that lighter or just been often near it, his state of mind and the artifact will have created a feedback loop from hell. I fear Shaw may be both far worse off and far more brittle than we expected." She looked at each of them before continuing. "For now, I will see that tabs are kept on Shaw, but we will not push him, yet. We need to know more. We still need to know whether the Belgian and Shaw are connected to The One Ring. That's our immediate task. We need to find a way to answer that question, and we need to know what The One Ring's plans really are."

* * *

Team Bartowski was up and running. Since the Seers were still baffled by Chuck and his power, Beckmann had decided that the best way to find out what Chuck could do was to put him in situations that would activate his power. Such situations had not been hard to come by, but it turned out that Chuck's powers were hard to predict and not under Chuck's full control. Most of what he had done was on the order of his seeing of the black glow of Shaw's lighter. Even so, the two months the team had been operating had seen them put a dent in The One Ring.

They now knew that the group was recruiting and mobilizing dark Casters, and placing them in Houses. This had been going on, it turned out, for a long time, and so there was reason to believe that many of these dark Casters were now well-entrenched in the Houses and would be hard to identify and hard to root out. Using information about newly sponsored Casters in various Houses how turned up likely recent plants of The One Ring, and Team Bartowski had captured three of them. Casey's interrogation of them produced new leads, one particularly promising. There was rumored to be a list of The One Ring's members, kept by a high-ranking member of the group and used by that member as leverage. Casey's interrogation did not produce a name, but it had produced information about contacts the person made. Beckmann and Graham were following up on that and the Team was hopeful that they might soon be able to do very serious damage to the group.

* * *

Sarah's biggest problem at the moment was not The One Ring. It was Eleanor Bartowski.

Sarah had spent quite a bit of time with Ellie. Sarah knew Ellie liked her. That was good. Ellie also worried that something about her brother and Sarah did not make sense. That was bad. It was not because (as Chuck still did from time to time, although he was doing better) Ellie thought Sarah was out of Chuck's league. If Ellie was tempted by any such thought, it went the other way. No, Sarah could tell that it was her silences and hesitancies bothered Ellie.

Ellie might have more willing to ignore them if not for the way things between Chuck and Sarah started. Ellie had been furious with Chuck and, though she tried to hide it, furious with Sarah too. How they could have just disappeared like that! Sarah knew that Ellie was not willing to believe that Chuck was lying or that Sarah was. She also knew Ellie just couldn't quite credit the story about Uncle John. Ellie had never completely gotten over her anger about that.

But if Sarah was being honest (and she was trying hard to be these days, with herself and with everyone) she knew that the root of the problem was that Ellie was afraid for Chuck.

Ellie knew her brother. Sarah could see when they were introduced that Ellie immediately knew how far gone her brother was. Ellie did not need a spell to know that Sarah was everywhere in Chuck. She knew he was in love. Sarah also knew that Ellie could not tell how far gone Sarah was, whether she was in love with Chuck or not.

Sarah caught Ellie looking at her, usually when she was looking at Chuck. She knew Ellie was watching, trying to figure out what was happening between them, how Sarah felt about Chuck. A couple of times Ellie had caught Sarah looking at Chuck with her guard down, her heart in her eyes. And Ellie had obviously been overjoyed by what she saw. But other times she caught Sarah looking at Chuck as his protector, counting exits, marking people in the crowd or in the room, projecting threats. And those times worried Ellie. She did not know what to make of them.

This morning at Lou's, Ellie stopped by to invite Sarah over for dinner. Chuck was supposed to have dinner with Morgan and spend some time at the arcade. Casey was slated to watch over Chuck during that outing. So, Sarah was free. She accepted Ellie's invitation with an inward groan. She liked Ellie, liked her a lot. She had high hopes for their friendship. She wanted her to be her sister, and not just in the _in-law_ sense. But Ellie was too smart to fool about important things. This would be a long dinner.

* * *

Sarah waited at the door, a chocolate souffle in her hands, still warm. Ellie answered the knock.

"Hey, Sarah, don't you look lovely! What's this?"

"I made dessert. I hope you like it."

Ellie peeked at it, her face pleased. "It's one of my favorites. Devon's too. He'll be here for a while before he starts his shift at the hospital. I hope that's ok."

"Sure, I'm always glad to see Devon."

They chatted about work and the weather as they put the food on the table. Devon joined them in his scrubs. They sat down. As they ate their salad, silence fell on the table and grew louder until all of them were paying attention to it. Sarah noticed Devon encouraging Ellie to say something by gesturing toward Sarah slightly with his head and widening his eyes. Elli seemed reluctant.

"So, Sarah," Devon finally said, "you and the Chuckster, eh?"

"Uh, yes, Devon, me and Chuck. What about us?" Sarah waited. Neither said anything. "So did you two ask me here to find out what my intentions are toward Chuck?" Sarah kept her tone light.

"Sarah, I know this is awkward," Ellie offered, "but Chuck is not just my brother. He is, in a way, my son. I'm tightly bound to him; I adore him. Sometimes he drives me crazy, but I think he's aces, Sarah, just aces. He's special. And you are too. Devon and I are both so glad you are in Chuck's life. We just aren't sure _how_ you are in it. You guys say you are dating. He spends the night at your place sometimes. But…"

"But _what_ , Ellie? What's on your mind?"

Devon picked up the thread of the conversation. "Sarah, you two seemed joined at the hip. But I am a doctor. I know, as a matter of fact, _that's_ not where you are supposed to be joined. Are you two really dating? Because, unless Ellie and I are seriously wrong about our boy, even though he spends the night, the two of you are not sleeping together. Let's just say that Chuck is showering a couple of times a day at least and that we still have lots of hot water."

Sarah stared at her salad. The silence returned.

"I understand why you are asking. I also appreciate that you are finding the asking difficult because this is pretty weird, you have to admit…" Both Ellie and Devon nodded. "But I want you to know that Chuck and I are a real couple - although I admit we are not a normal couple. We aren't pretending to be a couple or pretending to date. I have...very deep feelings...for Chuck. But we are taking it slow. I needed us to do that. That's not because I do not want to be _joined_ to him. God, do I want to!"

Sarah blushed. Ellie and Devon both smiled widely at that.

"But I have had issues with trust in the past, with commitment, and I have been working on those, and Chuck has been so much help. Your brother is good, brilliant even, at being a friend, Ellie; he knows how to do that. And he is just as good at being a boyfriend. I want it all, the whole future, with Chuck. But I am learning how to want that, how to trust myself to be his girlfriend and more. Let me be blunt: I want to sleep with Chuck. But I know what that will mean to him, and I am not going to do it until I feel things are right with me. I've run from serious emotions in the past, avoided having them or dealing with them. I'm trying to make sure that doesn't happen because of what I feel for Chuck. I've not been a stranger to cold showers lately myself."

Sarah stopped, feeling exhausted suddenly. When she looked up, she could see what she had been hoping for from them all along: acceptance and confidence. She smiled.

"Sarah, I'm here for you. Come talk to me anytime." Ellie reached across the table and left her hand there, palm up. Sarah reached and took it. She knew then that she was becoming part of a real family. Maybe not a normal family, but a real one.

"Honey, how about that pot roast? I've got to go soon. And you know how much I love your pot roast. It's awesome."

* * *

The next day, Sarah and Chuck had a date. Not a mission for Beckmann, not a bite to eat on a lunch break, not a movie night with Ellie and Devon, or a night of Morgan. No, a real no-one-but-Sarah-and-Chuck date. They decided that they would try something new, an Italian place that Lou had told them about. It was small and cozy. Sarah had talked Chuck into promising to go dancing afterward. It hadn't hurt that she had reminded him of their dance on their first date, both by describing it verbally and by re-enacting a portion of her part of it physically before they left her apartment. Chuck had gone glassy-eyed. When Sarah teased him about it, he pointed out that he was re-enacting his part of their dance.

The meal had been terrific. Wonderful dishes and good wine. They lingered for a little while over coffee, enjoying the time together without external pressures.

"Have you thought any more about the Ouija Board claiming that my power is love, Sarah? What does that mean? I've been thinking about it. I mean I know that the most impressive displays of my power have come when I have been defending what I love most, " Sarah closed her eyes when he said this, feeling her heart skip a beat, "but it seems like a lot of magical-mythical machinery to be in motion just to allow me to protect people I love. I mean, I am not complaining that I can do that, not a bit, but it seems like there must be something more to it."

"I believe that too, Chuck. But I don't know what it could be. We'll figure it out. Hang in there. I told Casey like you wanted me to. But he just grunted, twice. Nothing more."

They sat for a few minutes, finishing their coffee. Then Sarah forced herself to speak.

"I'm glad you brought the topic up, Chuck."

"My powers?"

"No, well, yes, well, _love_."

"Oh." Chuck's eyes became slightly guarded, slightly worried. Since he had told her he loved her at the ranch house, he'd mostly refrained from further declarations. She knew he didn't want to pressure her, force her (and him) to live through the chagrined silence that the declaration provoked in her. She normally responded non-verbally, and she trusted that Chuck knew what she was trying to say, wanted to say, but the non-verbal response was not fully satisfying to her either. She hated that she had used the word with Graham before she had used it with Chuck. She had been forced to do it with Graham. It was, she knew, the only way to force Graham to understand where she stood. But, since then, it felt like she was keeping a secret from Chuck, a good one, the best possible one, and only because she feared the word. Why could a word be so hard to say, even when you knew you meant it?

In her past, that word had been the word she used for the mother she had lost, the father who loved her by twisting her understanding of herself and others. She had used it for Bryce too, although the thought of that particularly bothered her. A girl is supposed to love her mom and dad. But Bryce? Now that she knew Chuck, she knew that she had never loved Bryce, and she was mortified to know that she thought she had. How had she been so confused? But she knew the answer. Bryce had been a sop to her desperate loneliness.

Her loneliness had periodically gotten so bad in those days that she could not sleep, could hardly breathe. Each exhalation was like a surrender to the end. At those moments, she began to feel that she was vanishing, that she was no one. All the lies that had been her life lashed at her. She could find nothing to believe in, nothing to believe. Everything seemed false, everything hopeless. She had spent so much time hiding her feelings that she was no longer sure she had any or could share them naturally with anyone else if she did.

Her whole body felt inexpressive, impassive, as if she could no longer communicate with or communicate anything to others. She would stare at her own unreadable face in the bathroom mirror for hours, wondering who this inscrutable woman was, if she was even a woman or only a warm bit of waxwork. She had nightmares of being in horrible pain but being unable to tell anyone else, unable even to writhe in agony. There was just the horrible pain consuming her behind her still unreadable expression. She was screaming in agony behind that neutral expression, but no one could hear and no one could tell.

She had found Bryce around this time. He was easy to look at, doing the same work as she was, and completely self-assured, unplagued by doubts. He took a liking to her, to the looks of her. She had been able to tell when the first met that he was making bets with himself about how long it would take him to see her naked.

It hadn't taken long, really. She'd been so afraid of her dark room, her empty bed, her bathroom mirror, that she allowed him into all three soon after they began dating. For a while, sleeping with him kept the loneliness at bay. She'd never really had a regular lover before, and it made it more exciting that she and Bryce were also regularly partners by day. She had wanted to get to know him and she had hoped she would find a way to let him get to know her. But although he got to know her body, he never tried to get to know her. He was satisfied with her hair, her lips, her skin, but not especially, really not at all, because they were _hers_.

He asked a few perfunctory personal questions early on, like after the first time they slept together. She had not been able to answer them, although she tried to get him to understand that she might do so in time. But he had seemed relieved. He clearly took her secrecy to be permission for his own. He told her very little. He called her 'Walker' in private, and referred to them, on the rare occasions when he did, as 'Larkin and Walker'. Like a drug store or something. It was an affair between two people on a last-name basis with one another. How could she have thought that was love?

When she found out Bryce was still sleeping with his former partner, and with other women as often as he could, she had been enraged. She meant no more than any of them, perhaps less. He had been using her in the bedroom. And, it turned out, using her in their work. She was more powerful than he was, but she found out that he had been good at recounting their missions in such a way that her power or success was obscured and his highlighted.

Because of her, Bryce had been able to get Graham to elevate him to head of security for the House. Sarah had no interest in the job; it was too staid, too punch-the-clock. But once he had the job, Bryce approached Sarah to end their relationship. She realized that not only had Bryce been using her, but the people in the circle of his friends she had gotten to know and taken to be her friends too, all knew what Larkin was doing. None of them saw fit to warn her. None apologized to her after the fact. They all just disappeared. Soon she was as lonely as she had been before, but now with a betrayal to intensify that feeling. It had taken her a long time to find her way past that pain, to find a way to face her empty apartment and an empty bed with any equanimity. She went back to staring into the mirror.

All of that loneliness, all of that feeling of being trapped in an impassive body behind an unreadable face, that mirror: Chuck smashed it the first time he looked at her. _At her_. She knew he thought she was beautiful. That _she_ was beautiful. Not: that she was _beautiful_. Chuck did not look past her at her beauty. He saw her beauty in seeing her. How different his eyes than Bryce's! Chuck's gaze was upbuilding; Bryce's gaze ultimately demoralizing.

She had been thinking about all this for the last several days, and she wanted to share at least the result of it with Chuck.

"Don't be worried, Chuck. This isn't anything bad, not anything bad _at all_. I guess you know I had a talk with Ellie and Devon at dinner the other night?"

"Well, I know you had a talk, but I don't really know what about. All I know is that Ellie told me she was hoping the two of you would be close now. And that she keeps grinning at me."

"They wanted to know if we were really dating. They figured out that your nights at my place were not, you know, _nights_ at my place. They thought that we might only be pretending to be a couple."

"Really? That's crazy. You and I could never pretend to be a couple! We either would be one or we wouldn't, you know."

"Yes, I know. But I also understand what confuses them. When I am with you, especially in public, I am not just your girlfriend, I am your protector. So I am scanning the room, looking at other people, locating exits. But to them that must look like me literally looking for a way out, a way to escape from you. It doesn't help that I am so often silent. That I am not good at saying how I feel. Anyway, I told them how much I want to sleep with you, and I told them why we have been waiting. They were very kind. They weren't trying to push us into bed together, they just wanted to know where we stood. They were both worried that I would hurt you. I don't think they are worried anymore. And this is what I wanted to tell you, Chuck, _neither am I_. I am ready. Whenever you are ready, Chuck, I think we should make love."

Chuck nearly choked on the last of his coffee.

"I thought about just attacking you when you picked me up," Sarah said, smiling at him in all-but-open arousal, "but then I thought that maybe just a little more anticipation wouldn't hurt since we have both gotten pretty good at the prolonged anticipation thing."

Chuck had turned a deep red. His ears, his neck, everything was flushed. She could feel heat and desire emanating from him, and could feel herself respond to it. Chuck reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He put down enough money to cover both the bill and the tip. He put out his hand and leaned over toward her.

"Now, after telling me that, you are going to make me go dancing, aren't you?" Chuck whispered the question in her ear as she took his hand and stood up.

She looked at him with wide-eyed innocence. "Why? Is that bad?"

"No, no, it's not bad. But you have to know what I will be imagining while we dance."

"Oh, I will know," she said, her innocent look vanishing as she slowly and obviously licked her lips, "I will know because I will be imagining _exactly_ the same thing."

Chuck's only response was a groan deep in the back of his throat.

* * *

Chuck woke as the sunlight began to filter brightly through the sheers on Sarah's apartment window. He felt like Mr. Fantastic, all rubbery and stretched and, well, fantastic.

After dancing, if what he and Sarah had done was rightly called dancing, they had barely made it from his car to the elevator, barely made it from the elevator to her door, and they didn't really quite make it through her door before things began to happen. Luckily, no one was in the hallway. Once through her door they had crashed onto the bed.

The first time was manic, their impetuous need for each other overtopping any attempt to cultivate or prolong their pleasure, to discover the details of one another. They just needed to be _together_ , to be as close to each other as was physically possible. The fact of it, Chuck inside her, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, meant so much that nothing else mattered.

Later, when it happened the second and then the third time, they were able to be more patient, to delight in one another, to start to learn how to be together. At one point, Chuck rolled over and turned on the light. Sarah had the sheet around her, but Chuck tugged it softly, gently off her. He looked at her with wonder and desire, memorizing her, her hair loose and wild, her body still pink from their lovemaking. She looked at him in return, the blue of her eyes a flame. Then he covered her again and turned off the light. He stretched out under the sheet beside her, his body still radiating heat, and she rolled over and draped herself around him. He slowly ran his finger up and down her back. She lifted her head and pushed herself up until her mouth was beside his ear.

"I love you, Chuck."

* * *

 **End of Book One**

 _Music for the Intermission_ : Billy Bragg, "She's Got a New Spell", readily available for your listening pleasure on many music platforms. It's the song in my head as I work on this thing!


	6. Chapter 6: Return Engagement

A/N: A new chapter: old challenges and new for our heroes.

Continued thanks to all those who are reading, and especially all those who have taken the time to leave a review. My sincere thanks to atcDave for his kind mention of this story on today's Chuck This! Blog fan fiction post.

Don't own _Chuck_.

* * *

 _Book Two: The One Ring_

 **CHAPTER 6 Return Engagement**

It had taken two weeks, but Beckmann's Casters had found a promising lead. A dark Caster they suspected of being a member of The One Ring was planning to meet a contact. The protocols favored by the contact matched those of the unknown member Team Bartowski was especially interested in, the member with the list. The meet was on the docks, at midnight.

Casey had done recon on the location during daylight, and now he and Sarah and Chuck were outfitted in black and in position as midnight approached. Casey was on a nearby roof, operating a directional listening device. Chuck and Sarah were tucked away between a crate and a shipping container. The hope was to capture The One Ring agents, particularly the one who set up the contact. The list might allow them to finish the group once and for all, or at least to have a better handle on its size and intentions.

Sarah reached over and took Chuck's hand as they crouched behind the crate. She laced their fingers together, turning the back of Chuck's hand toward her. She brushed the back of his hand with a kiss. Chuck smiled at her, freshly shocked as usual by how good she looked in anything and everything.

"You are rocking that black watch cap," Chuck whispered. She put up her index finger in front of her smiling lips, gesturing for him to be quiet while acknowledging the compliment.

Chuck kept talking, but softened his whisper: "Do you think our guy will show?"

Sarah shrugged and put her finger to her lips again. Chuck stopped talking and marveled at the woman beside him, the _woman_ in his life. _The_ woman. Sort of like Sherlock Holmes' Irene Adler - but without the angst (well, maybe with a little of the angst). Her presence in Chuck's life was undeniable and unimaginable. He shook his head: she boggled him. She was Sarah Walker, a mysterious and powerful Caster, but she was also his best friend and his lover, a budding sister to Ellie and Devon, and a new pal of Morgan's. She and Lou had developed a real bond, although, for understandable reasons, Chuck was not often with them when they spent time together.

* * *

After their first night _together_ , she had begun to open up to him about herself more and more. It was slow, and sometimes a fraught business. He was still in the dark about much. He suspected there might be some things he would never know. But he wasn't particularly worried about that for his sake. He loved this woman, loved her now. Not knowing her past did not prevent him from knowing her presently. He did think her talking about her past was important for her sake. Each time she did it, it seemed to Chuck like she came into fuller focus, like she seemed more _trued_ to herself.

He knew she was the daughter of a conman, and that she had chosen her father and his life when he and her mother ended their marriage. Her parents were both Casters. They had met very young and fallen for each other before fundamental differences between them became clear. Her mother was uninterested in living the life of a Caster, and she eschewed the use of her powers. She wanted to raise her child in the mortal world, as a mortal. Her father would have none of it. He thought all mortals (and most Casters, too) to be nothing but opportunities for easy money. His abilities as a Caster made the money even easier. Her mother and father began to fight, mostly verbally, but sometimes even physically.

The ending was slow and very unpleasant, and it had lacerated Sarah deeply. She had blamed the hurt on her mother, perhaps because she could not, at her age, understand that her father was, in the last analysis, a bad guy, that his way of life was wrong. Sarah had instead glamorized that life and idolized her father. Eventually, after a few stormy years shuttling her back and forth, her mother realized that her father's hold on her was too strong to compete with, that Sarah was taken with Casting and with her own developing powers. Her mother also knew that, in his own twisty way, her father did love Sarah, and would do his best to take care of her: she would be clean and fed and safe. And so her mother stopped the tug of war. At one level that pleased Sarah. She got what she thought she wanted, to live a life of adventure with her father. But at another level, it was a blow to Sarah. Letting her father take her seemed like her mother was rejecting her, giving up on a relationship with her. Sarah and her mother saw each other very few times after that.

By the time Sarah was old enough to sort it out, and to realize both who and what her father was, and why her mother had made the choices she made, it was too late. Her father had little by little, con by gyp, been turning dark. She tried desperately to turn him around, but he refused, believing that he could chisel destiny, cheat the dark, as well as other people. Sarah and her mother had been estranged for so long, there had been so little contact, that it seemed like a reconciliation was more effort, and would involve more pain, than it was worth. She was not sure her mom was interested in reconciling. Her mother was also so deeply embedded in mortal life that Sarah had feared ruining that for her mother if she sought her out.

Besides, by that time Sarah had sorted it out, she was under Graham's tutelage, and he dissuaded her particularly from re-establishing contact with her mother. Sarah knew that an important reason for that was Graham's knowledge that her mother had chosen to ignore her powers and live a mortal life. She now knew that Graham, even then, had seen that Sarah was not just her father's child. He could tell that the mortal world and mortal life had an as yet unrecognized appeal to her, and he worked to keep her from recognizing that appeal. He pushed her hard and kept her busy.

Chuck knew that she now recognized the appeal, and had been coming to that recognition even before she had been tasked with him. He teased her gently about it, from time to time: "Careful, Sarah Walker, or you might just become a mortal girl."

* * *

She did not look so mortal tonight though, in her dark shirt and pants, with a gun in a shoulder holster and, he knew with a knowledge both frightening and arousing, knives strapped to her calf. Who knew knives, Sarah's knives, anyway, could be erotic? Chuck was both thrilled by the thought of them and a little, just a smidgen, concerned about himself and his reaction to them.

Chuck was dressed as she was, minus the suite of exotic weaponry. Despite Casey and Sarah's attempt to teach him to use a gun, and despite the fact that he had quickly learned to do so, he wanted nothing to do with guns in any situation in which he might have to take aim at a person. He did have a tranq gun in his belt, but that was a concession to Casey and Sarah and not something he had active plans to ever use - all prop, no pop.

The dark Caster who had been their lead walked slowly into view, carefully examining the dock area around him. Sarah and Chuck both crouched as low as they could while still keeping the man in view.

{Casey. He's here.}

{I see him. Everything is ready here. I have a view of the entire area. He's alone.}

{Ok. Let me know when the contact appears.}

{Will do.}

The man reached a yellow shipping container and stopped. It suddenly struck Chuck that it was the only container of its color on that part of the dock. The man stood still for a few minutes, looking around him and listening intently. The man gave a slight, involuntary start, and then stepped back, looking at the container.

Sarah shot Chuck a look. "Did you hear something?"

"No, I think he heard something from inside the container."

The man walked to the front of the container and pulled down the handle, opening it. A strange green smoke wafted out, glowing here and there like it was full of lightning bugs. Chuck felt, rather than saw, Sarah go tense.

"What is that, Sarah."

"It's smoke sometimes created by teleportation. Someone or something has been teleported into that container."

After a few seconds, a figure was discernible in the smoke, walking slowly from inside the container. As the smoke cleared, the man walked to her. Then, Chuck went tense.

"Jill."

* * *

Sarah heard Chuck say the name. She looked more carefully. It was indeed the woman in Shaw's photograph. She was wearing a trench coat and had her hair down, loose. She was wearing glasses. She and the man began talking. It was clear that Jill was the superior. She was in control, the man in the position of underling. Jill was demanding something from him. He was refusing, clearly looking for a reward or for a greater reward.

{Casey, can you hear any of this?}

{Yeah, the woman…}

{It's Jill Roberts.}

{Well, well, the ex! Anyway, the guy has information she wants. Not clear what yet. He wants her to double the payment. She's...ah...not enthusiastic.}

{Let me know when you are clear about the info.}

The man was now gesticulating a bit wildly, his temper clearly getting the best of him. Then, Sarah noticed something strange: Jill was only half-listening to the man. She was looking around expectantly, waiting for something to happen.

{Casey, is the area still secure?}

{Damn, no. There are armed teams coming toward the dock from both the north and south. 6, maybe 7 each. Casters. You and Chuck have no escape route. I hope they aren't here for you, but that's a lot of power for a low level schmuck, even if he is a dark Caster.}

{Keep me updated.}

Jill seemed to realize that what she expected was ready to happen. She turned her attention back to the man who was now nearly yelling at her. Jill's hand flashed out and she grabbed the man by the throat. She extended her other hand upward, to the moon, and Sarah and Chuck could hear her cry out in Latin. The man's body began to shake. His face reddened. After a few more seconds, he went lank in Jill's grip. He stopped shaking.

Sarah heard Chuck make a strangled sound, as if he had been the man. She peaked at him. He was open-mouthed in shock. Sarah looked back at Jill. Jill raised her hand in the air and made a circle, a signal to comb the area. Then Sarah knew. Their trap was itself a trap. Jill had known they were going to be there. The two teams were for Team Bartowski.

{Walker, I can take out a few before they get to you, but not all. What should I do?}

{Don't fire, Casey. No spells. There's no margin in this fight. We need you out there to find us if we survive. Hold your position.}

{Sorry, Walker. Take care of our boy - and yourself.}

Jill yelled out. "I know you are here. You followed this...ass. We planned on that, of course. And now you are surrounded. Surrender, and I will be...kinder than I will if you make me find you."

Sarah grabbed Chuck's arm and pulled him up with her as she stood.

"We are here. We surrender."

* * *

Several men raced to them, guns pointed. A couple stood back, ready to cast. Chuck put his hands up in the air and Sarah did the same. The men motioned for them to move to Jill. The whole group then walked to Jill.

Chuck watched Jill's face as he and Sarah neared her. She was looking at them with curious contempt. And then her face changed. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes clouded. She unconsciously mouthed his name. "Chuck?" Then she clamped her mouth shut. The men searched them, claiming all of their weapons.

Chuck had stopped a few feet from Jill. He now noticed that Sarah's body language had changed. Before, even in stressful moments, she held herself in relation to him. He was the fixed point in her environment. But, no longer, not now. He all-at-once knew he was standing beside the Enforcer Walker of the past. Sarah had changed herself. She did not want Jill to know that she and Chuck were together. Knowing that would give Jill an even greater advantage. Looking at Sarah out of the corner of his eye, Chuck knew this was as close to a glimpse of the old Sarah Walker as he might get. He had not realized Enforcer Walker could be reanimated so quickly.

Jill rallied herself. She wiped all recognition of Chuck from her face. Chuck stood between the two women of his life, and each of them looked like she had never seen him before, much less cared or had cared for him.

Jill instructed one of the men to call for transportation. As they waited, Jill stepped toward Sarah, recognizing her. "So, the famous Sarah Walker, Graham's wildcard enforcer. I must say, you are a disappointment. I would have expected more fight from you. And, may I ask, who is this with you?"

"His name is Bartowski. I'm his handler. He's my asset." Sarah's inflection was clipped, absolutely flat. She almost sounded bored. He understood her tone - but it also sent a jolt of panic through him. Could she turn her feelings off, just like that? But she hadn't, really, had she? She was pretending, acting.

"Fascinating…" Jill said as she stepped nearer to Chuck. As she did so, a change of expression flashed across her face - a warning. She was telling him to play along. "But isn't he a...mortal? Why would you be handling a mortal?" Jill stopped quite close to Chuck and put her hand out, resting it on his chest. "Well, perhaps with the right persuasion, he will be in a sharing mood."

The man who had called for transportation told Jill it would be there in thirty seconds. He asked what should be done with the unconscious Caster. Jill seemed to have forgotten about that entirely. She told him to throw him in the rear and, if he lived, to get him help when they got where they were going. When Jill finished, she flicked her gaze to Chuck, as if to gauge his reaction to what she had done and was doing.

Two SUVs and a large van roared to them. Most of the men piled efficiently into the van. The man who had called for transportation loaded the unconscious Caster unceremoniously into the rear of one of the SUVs. Jill motioned for Chuck and Sarah to get in the rear seat of the other. They did. Once Jill was in the passenger seat, the vehicles quickly left the dock.

Although Chuck had not been privy to Casey and Sarah's telepathic communication, he had been on enough missions with them to know that they would have been in contact that way. Chuck's ability to communicate telepathically was spotty, only really reliable just before, during or immediately after his use of his powers. Since Casey had not intervened, it was likely that he and Sarah had decided against him doing so. With any luck, Casey would be tracking them already.

Jill turned to Chuck and Sarah and told them to sit still. Then she waved her hands in the air. Suddenly, a glowing cord appeared around his hands and cinched itself together around them. He saw that the same happened to Sarah. "That should hold you. And of course, you cannot cast with that on, Sarah."

* * *

The SUVs and the van sped through the darkened city. Since the SUVs windows were tinted, Chuck could tell little about where they were. He looked to Sarah, but she was staring at the back of the driver's seat. She had been careful not to touch him at all or to look at him much since they had gotten in the car. Chuck knew what she was doing, but it continued to affect him at some level. They were so close to each other constantly now, and to be this close but to feel her at such a distance was difficult. He had to believe it was for her too, and so he turned away from her, so as not to tempt her into a response. Particularly since the difficulty for him took the form of sudden doubts, and he knew how much she dreaded him doubting her.

Every so often, Jill would turn to look at them, but really at him. A couple of times her look had again flashed briefly in recognition and warning and...something else…that Chuck could not quite name.

The SUVs pulled into an underground garage. The van and the other SUV went in one direction once in the garage, the SUV that Chuck and Sarah were in went another. Soon, they stopped. Jill jumped out and she opened the passenger side rear door, where Chuck was seated. Chuck slid out in response to her order to get out. Sarah slid across the length of the seat and joined him standing between the car and an elevator marked _Service_. Jill turned to the elevator and pushed a button. She turned back to Chuck and Sarah, a gun now in her hand. It must have been in the trench coat all along. The SUV pulled away. They all got on the elevator after it arrived, and Jill punched the button for the second floor.

* * *

The elevator doors opened onto a long hallway with doors on both sides. Jill walked purposefully to the last one on the left, then she opened the door, stepping back. She pointed her gun at Sarah and waved her into the room. Sarah walked in. Jill closed the door and then waved her hand over it. The door went slightly out of focus for a second and then returned to its normal look. Jill seemed satisfied. She turned to Chuck, her face now completely different, soft and vulnerable.

"Chuck!", she sighed. The next thing he knew, she had pushed him against the opposite wall and was kissing him with desperation.

At first, Chuck thought she was attacking him. But, as her tongue forced its way between his lips and her hands ran down his back, he realized that she wasn't-or at least wasn't in the way he imagined. He did not respond, but his next thought was that she tasted familiar. Even after all this time, his mouth knew hers.

All that time. Five years that he has spent pining for her, regretting whatever it was that he had done to lose her, all those nights trying to suss out what had happened, and now she was here, in the flesh, her tongue on his, kissing him like she was trying to make those five years disappear. Chuck had fantasized this moment countless times, tormenting himself with a reunion that would never happen at all, much less follow this script. But now he was living the moment he fantasized - and he knew that the woman he loved had just been locked behind a door.

Chuck gently pushed Jill off him, forcing her to take a step back. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, and they were as long as he remembered. Her eyes were just as dark and they were now full of emotion and brimming with tears.

"Chuck. My God, Chuck. How are you here? What are you doing with Walker? It's been five years, Chuck. I have missed you so much."

Chuck eventually found his voice. "Jill? What is going on? What are you doing with a gun? What did you do to that man?" Chuck decided that his best choice was to play dumb and to play out the questions he genuinely had. What was going on? Was Jill a _Caster_? Chuck had never suspected such a thing when they were together or afterward, although Morgan had often enough commented that Jill was a witch.

"Let's go and sit down, Chuck. We need to talk."

Jill walked back down the hallway to the door next to the one she had sent Sarah through. She led Chuck in. Inside, it appeared to be a hotel room, one on the Spartan side, however. There was a small round table with two chairs, and a long, double chest of drawers, on the top of which was a small fridge and a small, flat-screen tv. There was a door open that led into a bathroom. Other than that, the room was dominated by a large bed, plainly and neatly made.

Chuck noticed Jill steal a glance at him and at the bed, but she walked past him as he looked around and she sat down at the small table. Chuck sat down opposite her.

"We don't have much time. I am a Caster, Chuck. That means I am a person who can do magic. So is Walker. I know this is a lot to take in, but you evidently saw what I did on the dock, and you saw me materialize the rope that binds your hands. You were always a quick study, Chuck. You must understand that I am telling the truth, that all this is real."

Chuck nodded slowly.

"Good. As a Caster, I made some...bad choices. After a while, they piled up and I was...forced to join a group of dark Casters, Casters who use magic, well, for power. I did not want that, but I had no choice. It happened during our senior year at college. I was...recruited on that trip I took to a molecular biology conference. I was forbidden to have a relationship with a mortal (that's what we call humans who cannot use magic). They knew that I was dating you and they told me that if I went back to you, they would kill you. So I had to end us, for your sake. I am so, so sorry about that. I've carried the guilt of it every day." She swallowed hard and gathered herself.

"Even worse, I never managed to get over you." She turned her gaze down for a second, evidently touched by feeling. "I just couldn't believe it when I realized you were the one with Walker. I'm sorry about the sneak-attack kiss, I just reacted. I need to know about why you were with Walker, but there isn't time right now. My...ah...my boss will be here soon. Don't let him know that we know each other. Do what he says. Give him what he wants, if you can. I believe I can keep him from hurting you. You can still get out of this. I want to get you out of this. Maybe it will go some way toward making up to you what I did to you at Stanford."

With that, Jill got up. "Stay here. I'll be back in a little while. I'm afraid I have to leave the rope in place." She started to leave, then stepped back to Chuck quickly. "Oh, my God, _Chuck Bartowski_!" She said it with such feeling that Chuck smiled in spite of himself, and she bent down and kissed his smile. He watched her leave. He wondered if he could access his powers.

* * *

Sarah stepped into the room. She felt Jill place a holding spell on the door. She looked at her surroundings. Table and chairs, chest of drawers, fridge, tv, bathroom, bed. Sarah did not move, she stood next to the door, listening. A holding spell might keep her in, but it did not keep sound out. She leaned toward the door just in time to hear Jill sigh Chuck's name, and to feel something bump the opposite wall of the hallway.

Sarah noticed that the door had a standard hotel peephole, so she put her eye to it. She saw, in a slight fishbowl distortion, Jill kissing Chuck, she had him pinned to the wall and had her open mouth over his. Sarah was suddenly full of power, tingling like she had touched an electric fence, but there was nothing she could do. The binding spell on her hands made it impossible for her to release any power. Helplessly, she watched the man she loved be kissed by the woman who had held his heart for five years even after she had mercilessly dumped him.

Sarah knew how she had been treating him since they surrendered to Jill. It made her queasy but it had to be done. Putting on Enforcer Walker again was like putting on dirty clothes after taking a shower. She rebelled against it. But she had to gain whatever advantage she could, so as to keep Chuck safe. But to be so cold to him just before Jill was so...warm?

But as her heart sank, she noticed that Chuck _was being kissed;_ he was not kissing. And he pushed Jill away. And he looked at Sarah's door. And Sarah knew for sure: Chuck really had chosen between them. He had chosen her, chosen Sarah. The tingle of power was replaced by a surge of warmth. He had not chosen Sarah over just the shadow of Jill, over just her memory. He had chosen her even when the flesh-and-blood Jill was pressing herself against him. He chose Sarah even while she was being Enforcer Walker.

Sarah let go of the vortex of jealousy that had been whirling in her ever since Chuck recognized Jill on the dock. She needed to concentrate. Casey would be coming. She needed to be ready.

* * *

Chuck, predictably, could not access any power. He tried. He concentrated. Narrowed his eyes. Held his breath. Nothing.

But then he heard his name. He thought it was Sarah speaking to him telepathically, and he tried to answer that way, but, again, nothing. Then he heard his name a second time. Heard it with his ears. Sarah was speaking to him through the wall between their rooms.

"Chuck, don't freak out. We're going to make it. Casey will find us. No matter what happens, don't provoke them. And don't let them know we a couple They may use me against you or you against me. Ask questions, stall. If you have to, make Jill think you are still...interested."

"I am not interested, Sarah. I'm not."

"I know that, Chuck. I do. And I don't want you to have to do this. Don't take it far. Just act like you might be interested in reconciling. I take it she is interested?"

"I guess," Chuck said. He wasn't sure whether now was the time to tell Sarah about Jill's attack or not. But how did Sarah know Jill was interested? Before he could ask, Chuck heard footfalls in the hall.

"I love you, Chuck," he heard Sarah say, just before the door opened. A moment later, Jill came into the room, followed by Shaw. Chuck knew him from photographs supplied by Beckmann. He wasn't surprised to see Shaw, really. The picture of Jill had put the two of them together in Chuck's mind. Shaw had had his hand on Jill as they came in, but dropped it as they reached Chuck.

Shaw was bigger than Chuck expected. Morgan, whose flirtation with the inappropriate never ended, would have said the guy knew how to fill out a pair of pants. He was tall and dark, black hair and black eyes.

Chuck noticed that he had a Zippo in his hand. A Zippo? A second look confirmed it: it was the Zippo Chuck had seen glow black in Shaw's apartment. Shaw walked to the table where Chuck had re-seated himself after his quick wall-talk with Sarah.

Shaw sat down, staring hard at Chuck. As he did, he opened the lighter, lit it, snapped it shut, then opened it, re-lit it-over and over in strict time. Looking at him up close, Chuck could tell the man was slightly deranged. Not stupid, not foolish. Crazy. Psychological swiss cheese. Holey. A long silence ensued, punctuated only by open, flip, flame, snap, open, flip, flame, snap... Hypnotic. It was like watching Captain Queeg roll the ball bearings in _The Caine Mutiny_.

"Chuck - that's your name, right? Well, Chuck, we didn't expect...you to be involved in this. Why is a mortal on a mission with Sarah Walker? Why are you mixed up in this?"

Chuck had been expecting that question since Jill took him and Sarah. He exaggerated his fear and answered: "Look, I'm just a tech guy, a hacker. Walker hired me to help her hack some email accounts and some other servers. I got curious what she was up to and I begged her to let me come on an actual mission. Tonight was just supposed to be surveillance. I was supposed to stay in the car but I...wanted a closer look. I guess it all went sideways - but I don't know anything about any of this, really. There's no magic...I mean, I guess there is, I'm wearing these," Chuck held up his wrists, still bound by a glowing cord, "but I'm just a nerd way out of his depth."

Shaw looked at him with amused disdain. "Walker must have been crazy to let you talk her into this. Or maybe you are just that good a hacker. And, given the way my girl, Roberts, keeps sneaking looks at you, maybe Walker wanted something to look at during the stakeout. Or something to do afterward. I wouldn't have thought you were her type. I would've figured her more for someone like me. The trouble for you, Chuck, is that even if you got into this accidentally, you are going to have to be dealt with. Roberts here tells me she will take care of that. And since I have somewhere else to be, I'm afraid our acquaintance is at an end."

Shaw stood and stepped over to Jill. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him. He kissed her, draping his other arm around her and then, as he extended the kiss, slipped his hands down around her bottom, turning her as he did so that Chuck could not miss the gesture. Chuck wasn't sure if Shaw was making a point to him or to Jill or both, but he was making a point, marking territory. Chuck noticed that one of Shaw's hands still gripped the lighter with his index and middle fingers, while the others were on Jill's rear. Nothing about Shaw's manner in the kiss, or about Jill's, spoke of warm, genuine personal contact. In spite of himself and his situation, Chuck felt a little sorry for them both, and a little nauseated.

Chuck was pretty sure that Shaw didn't believe his story - but Shaw also did not disbelieve it. Shaw just didn't really care about it. He had come to look at Chuck to assess him as a threat, and clearly Shaw nothing threatening in Chuck. That did not mean Chuck would be released, it just meant that Chuck required no special handling, no interrogation. He could be disposed of. As Shaw groped Jill, Chuck felt a sudden small surge of power and for a moment he could see Shaw and Jill, each glowing. He glowed a sickly green heavily mottled with black, inkiest near the lighter. She glowed a weak yellow, a yellow also mottled with black, although not to the degree of Shaw. Chuck knew he was seeing their uncreated lights, and he knew they were indeed both dark Casters. He was not quite sure how to make sense of Jill's darkness, but Shaw's was raw and gaping and needy.

* * *

{Walker?}

{Casey? Thank God.}

{Are you ok? Chuck?}

{Both ok. But I figure we are running out of time. Shaw was here and he has left. I'm pretty sure his order to Roberts was to kill us both.}

{Not gonna happen. I've got a team of Beckmann's best. We are outside the building. I just need to know your position.}

{2nd floor, north side. Chuck and I are in rooms at the end of the hall. I've been bound by Roberts and my door sealed. Chuck is bound but his door is not sealed.}

{Ha! Roberts is keeping the door open, huh?}

{Don't need this now, Casey. But she is mine.}

{Roger. The countdown starts now. We'll breach in five minutes unless you tell me otherwise. Get down, we will come in hot.}

{Stay alive, Casey.}

{You two too.}

Chuck heard and felt the explosions.

{Sarah!}

{Chuck, your powers flashed?}

{Yeah, a little. Enough for me to see the truth about Jill and Shaw. Not that we didn't already know, I guess.}

{Casey's coming.}

{I heard the knock.}

{Can you use your powers to get rid of Jill's bonds?}

{I couldn't earlier. Let me try now. No, no luck.}

{That's ok, Chuck. Worth a try. Sit tight and stay down.}

* * *

Chuck's door burst open and Jill stood in the doorway. She motioned with one hand for Chuck to follow her. She had a gun in her other hand. Chuck crossed to her quickly. She stepped out of the doorway, to let Chuck walk ahead of her. He took a couple of steps toward the elevator when he realized Jill wasn't following. He looked back as he heard the sound of now-closer gunfire and more explosions. Jill was moving one hand in front of Sarah's door, fisting her gun in the other. The door exploded inward and Jill, in a flash, had both hands on her gun and was pointing it into the room, about to fire.

Before she could locate her target, Sarah torpedoed out of the doorway and into Jill, slamming her against the opposite door. Jill dropped the gun. Sarah's momentum was so great that she almost bounced off of Jill when Jill slammed into the door. Jill fell to her knees, then launched herself forward, trying to reclaim her dropped gun. Sarah, after a split second to gather herself, flung herself toward the gun too. Their hands arrived at the gun at the same time, but Sarah was the stronger of the two, even with her hands still bound. She twisted the gun free and aimed it at Jill's head. "Enough, Roberts."

The elevator opened and several of the men who had captured them on the dock sprinted toward them. Chuck saw the ones first off the elevator aim their weapons at him or at Sarah. Chuck suddenly felt jittery all over; his eyes rolled in his head…

[...There was a moment of eternity, and a piercing sweetness and blinding light, and then…]

Chuck and Sarah and Jill were all in Cave, although still in the same relative physical positions they had held in the hallway. Sarah oriented more quickly than Jill, and kept the gun pointed at her head. Chuck wobbled and then collapsed to the floor. Jill looked dazed and frightened.

{Casey?}

{Walker! We can't find you!}

{We're back in Cave. Chuck did it, somehow. I've got Roberts. Chuck is unconscious. What's your situation? I can't hold onto you for long. I can feel the link weakening}

{Mopping up. We've either killed or taken prisoner everyone who was here. Shaw was gone before we arrived. And of course, you have Roberts.}

{Ok. We will be here when you return.}

{Glad you are ok. Chuck's full of surprises, huh?}

{Mmmmhmm…}

{Walker, don't you dare explain that sound.}

* * *

Sarah knew that Jill's power was likely spent. And she was still too disoriented to present much of a threat. But Sarah had to be careful. Sarah hit Jill hard with the handle of Jill's gun. She crumbled. As she lost consciousness, the ropes binding Sarah's hands disappeared. Sarah grabbed Jill's hands and dragged her unceremoniously down one of the passageways to a holding cell. She locked it after she dropped Jill on the floor. The lock was itself enchanted-a powerful spell worked by Beckman herself - and all it took to be sure Jill was indeed locked in was Sarah pressing her palm to the door. The cell was impermeable to magic as long as Beckmann's shielding spells were in place. Sarah then ran quickly back down the hallway to see about Chuck. She knew he was breathing. She had looked to be sure he was recovering before she disposed of Jill.

By the time she got back into the central room, Chuck was conscious and sitting up. There was blood drying on his face. An acrid odor told Sarah that he had vomited. He looked up at her as she rushed to him. "How did we get here?"

"You did it, Chuck, not me. I don't know how we did it. It was not teleportation, at least not as I know it. But it was different from what happened on the highway. Sit still."

Sarah stepped into the other passageway and returned in a moment with a bottle of water and a stack of towels. She also had a wet washcloth. She handed it to Chuck and he washed the blood from his face. Meanwhile, Sarah dropped one of the towels on the small pool of bile beside Chuck. She knelt and dried his face for him when he had finished washing it. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

"You probably don't want to do that, at least not until I brush my teeth and clean up."

"I don't care, Chuck. I'm so glad you are safe." Sarah wanted to kiss his memory of Enforcer Walker away.

"Sarah, Jill kissed me. I didn't kiss her back, but she kissed me. A couple of times, actually. She seems to think we can somehow pick up where she left off."

"I know she kissed you. I saw the full frontal attack in the hallway through the hole in my door. You know, Chuck," she said, grinning and gesturing at herself, " _spying_ is sort of my thing. And, look, Chuck, we don't have to talk about Jill right now. I'm good. I also saw that you did not kiss her back. We're good. Really good."

Chuck sighed in relief and then put out his hands for Sarah to help him up. Jill's rope had fallen from his hands when he moved them to the Cave. Sarah and he stood together. He was shaky enough to need to lean on her. Suddenly, he went tense. "What about Casey?"

"He's fine. Mopping up. I think we've dented The One Ring again. If Jill really has a list, and we can get it from her, we might be able to finish the whole bunch off soon."

Chuck was pleased that Casey returned in a good mood. He hadn't lost anyone in the raid, and he had taken several prisoners. They were being transported to a larger facility that belonged to Beckmann's House.

After making sure that Jill had regained consciousness - she had - and telling Casey about all that had happened, they headed back to the apartment complex. Sarah was too tired and too in need of Chuck all to herself to traverse the greater distance to her apartment. Casey parted company with them near the fountain in the center of the complex. Sarah and Chuck crept quietly into his apartment and down the hall into his bedroom, being careful not to wake Ellie or Devon.

Chuck left to go to the bathroom; he was dying to brush his teeth. But he found Sarah one of his old _Tron_ t-shirts to sleep in since she had nothing with her. _Nothing_ would have been his preferred sleeping attire for her, but with Ellie and Devon in the next room, it was probably good that she had something to wear. He brushed his teeth. He looked a little hollowed out, but he felt ok.

* * *

When Chuck got back to the room, Sarah was prone on the bed, reading a magazine. Chuck was struck by the normalcy of it, especially against the backdrop of their night. They were definitely not a normal couple, so this normal moment was rare. But he liked the couple they were. He laid down on his back without interrupting her reading. After a few minutes, he rolled toward her.

"What are you reading, Sarah. You seem engrossed."

Sarah looked embarrassed, and she moved to close the magazine and put it away. Chuck grabbed at it playfully and they wrestled for a minute before he was able to take it.

"You know I let you take that, don't you?"

"Of course, Sarah. I sleep with you aware that you could kill me in countless ways at any time, and that none would require that you exert yourself."

"It's particularly important that you are aware of that tonight, after kissing Jill _twice_."

"No, after _being kissed_ twice. It's a subject/object thing. What can I do if women insist on objectifying me? Hey…" Chuck looked at the magazine. It was one of Ellie's bridal magazines. Ellie had been buying them and leaving them around the apartment in good-humored malice, presumably to alert Captain Awesome to a certain slowness of pace in their relationship.

Sarah blushed deeply. But she didn't turn away or find something else to look at or to do. She held Chuck's gaze. "Do you ever think about it, Chuck?" She asked the question so softly and gently that it caused Chuck's eyes suddenly to brim with tears.

"All the time, Sarah. All the time. For so much of my life, I did not know what I wanted. Once I thought all I wanted was Jill. I was wrong about that. Whatever we had, however real it felt, it was an illusion. I did not know who she was. Nothing about our relationship was really real. And then I wandered in the Purgatory of the Buy More for five years. And then I read a magical book: after that the real magic happened: I met you. I knew what I wanted because I knew who I wanted. You. I have real skills, I mean, other than these puzzling powers. I can go back to school, get work in archeology or in the Silicon Valley. I'm actually really good at both. But, as much as I would like that work, I would be working for us, for our white house with a red door, and maybe," Chuck's voice dropped until it matched the softness and gentleness of Sarah's, "working for our kids."

Chuck worried that he had gone too far. They had touched on that topic a few times in the past weeks, always in very general terms, and each time Sarah had gotten visibly flustered. But this time she seemed calm.

"Chuck, I know I've reacted...strangely when we have talked about kids before. That's not because I don't want them, don't want your kids. I do. I really do. I just never knew I wanted kids. Or I did know I wanted them, but I couldn't...accept it. My own childhood soured me on the thought. I guess I couldn't imagine doing anything but repeating my parents' mistakes. But I realized that I kept imagining myself with kids but without imagining their father. I now don't have to imagine their father. I am in his bed, _in his Tron t-shirt, God help me_ , and I want to have kids who will wear _Tron_ t-shirts of their own and read comics and disassemble computers and take Karate lessons and love their dad and mom so much..."

Sarah sat up on the bed and reached over to cup Chuck's face in both her hands. "Do you, Chuck Bartowski, want to have a family with me?"

"I do. And do you, Sarah Walker, want to have a family with me?"

"I do." She leaned in to kiss him. "I like the sound of those words, 'I do'."

"Me too, Sarah, me too."

A significant look passed between them. Sarah scooted over and stretched out against Chuck's chest. He waved the bridal magazine, still in his hand, in front of her.

"Give me that!"

* * *

Sarah woke up the next morning to find Chuck already awake, staring at the ceiling. She felt a sudden twinge of panic. Maybe their conversation last night had been too much too soon? They had, in effect, promised to have kids together, after all, and that presumably meant - given the magazine that started the conversation - they had promised what would lead to those kids, getting married and establishing a home. It all made Sarah intensely happy. But maybe it hadn't done the same for him?

"Morning, Chuck. Are you ok?"

He turned his head to smile widely at her. "I don't know when I have been ok-er than I am this morning. The woman I adore promised me last night that she would have my kids. Forgive me if this sounds, I don't know, _male_ or something, but that makes me so proud and happy I could burst."

"I don't think it's _male_ because I feel the same way about your promising to have kids with me. And I, Chuck Bartowski, am not a man." She took his hand and placed it on her breast.

"Oh, boy. No, no one here mistaking the beautiful blond for a male."

But then he rolled toward her and a serious look fell across his face. "Sarah, tell me about dark Casters. How does it happen? You've told me some general things, and I've picked up a bit listening to you and Casey and Beckmann, but I still don't understand it. I know that Shaw and Jill are both dark; I _saw_ their darkness. But what does that mean? Were they born dark?"

Sarah pursed her lips. "No, at least, that is not the way that Seers understand it. Casters are born neither light nor dark, although they are born such that if nature takes its course, they will become light. Caster's are naturally meant to be light. That is part of what makes darkness so bad. It is a distortion of nature, of a Caster's nature. As children, since they are not yet making their own decisions, they remain neither light nor dark.

"But at some point, as they mature, they become their own persons - and at that point, they begin to be and to become light or dark. What they become is fixed by what they do and by the way they feel about what they do. Actions determine light and dark. Wanting to be one or the other may help a Caster become such, but what you want or desire does not suffice to make you one or the other. A Caster can want to be light and yet become dark. A Caster can want to be dark and become light - although that is very rare. Few want to be dark. If they come to want that, it is because of some event in their life, normally. Nothing moves a Caster toward darkness faster than unjust killing. Even if the killing is justified, the way the Caster feels about it can push him or her toward the dark. Murder, actual cold-blooded, premeditated murder, seals a soul in the dark. Sometimes, and these are the saddest cases, Casters become dark while thinking they are becoming light. They lose their sense of themselves and of the real import of their actions. They can't see that they are acting out of selfishness instead of duty - that kind of thing."

"But what about you and Casey? I know you are not dark, but your work?..."

Sarah sighed. "Yes, our work exposes us to darkness constantly. It is not uncommon for Casters who do what we do to eventually become dark. In fact, that is the grim joke we all know and laugh at and fear: _Dark or dead_. It's one important reason why I do not want to do this anymore. I will protect you and work with the Team - because that is also protecting you. But, after that, I am done being an Enforcer. I am not dark but I have struggled with darkness and feared I was slipping into it. I'm sure that Casey has too. It's a version of the problems that mortal cops have when going undercover. It's easy to slip. The lie can become your truth. You can 'go native'. But for us, there is no way back.

"The night of our first date, when you saw me glowing, what you saw was me, but it was also already me under your influence. I am better with you, Chuck. At some level, I knew I was as soon as I touched your hand. I'm good here. Since I have been with you I no longer fear the dark as I once did. I do not feel like I am vanishing slowly into it, being slowly consumed by it, darkened by my own despair and loneliness."

Chuck took her in his arms and held her a long while. She kissed his neck repeatedly, thankful for him, and so in love with him.

"Do you have a shift at Lou's today?" Chuck asked quietly.

"No, what about you? Nerd herding today, or putting in time at the Curiosity Shop?"

"No, neither. So, I was thinking, how about we stay in bed this morning? Ellie and Devon both had early shifts. I heard them leave a while ago."

"So you want to sleep in?"

"I didn't say anything about sleeping."

"Jill's in a cell back in Cave, Chuck."

"Casey can take care of Jill."


	7. Chapter 7: Considerations

**A/N:** Sometimes you gotta bethink yourself. _Ditto_ our heroes.

Continued thanks to readers and reviewers.

Do not own _Chuck_. Writing from no pecuniary motive, but rather in (ahem!) high-minded aesthetic disinterest.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 7 Considerations**

Although Chuck and Sarah delayed it and enjoyed the delay immensely, the early afternoon found them sitting at the central table in Cave, talking with Casey about Jill. Casey had talked at length with Beckmann. He favored using magical means to wrest Jill's secrets from her - particularly the list if she really had one. But Beckmann was willing to let Chuck see what he could do, given Jill's apparent interest in him.

Chuck was not happy about the plan, but he preferred it to the magical plan. He had an idea that the use of magic to take secrets from someone was...altogether less than pleasant. He didn't want Jill in his life, but he didn't want her to face that interrogation.

"So what do I need to do?" He asked the question of both Sarah and Casey.

Sarah answered. "Take her some lunch. Sit with her. Talk to her. She wants to talk to you. Try to steer the conversation toward The One Ring. Make it clear to her that she needs a bargaining chip, something that she could trade - maybe for her freedom. See what happens. We will be watching on the monitors. If things get too weird, but you don't want her to know, use a safe word. I will come in and help you. What should the safe word be?"

"How about 'time machine'?" Chuck asked. Casey guffawed. Sarah nodded _ok_.

* * *

Jill was hungry. She ate the sandwich Chuck bought her quickly. She had always been a slow, fussy eater, extending their dinner dates long past the normal time. Chuck had found it mostly a likable trait, in large part because she was talkative when she ate. Chuck liked it when she talked to him and let him talk to her.

But today, she said nothing and she ate the sandwich with dispatch. As she finished, though, she pushed the plate away and wiped her hands and the corners of her mouth with the napkin he gave her.

"Look, Chuck, the situation has been reversed. Obviously, there is much more going on here than I knew - and I don't pretend to understand it. I have no idea how we got from where we were last night to here, but I do know that a power I have never imagined was responsible for it. But none of that changes what I want. I want out. I've wanted out for a long time. I think I have a way out. And I would like it, Chuck," and here the bargaining sound dropped out of her voice, "I'd like it if you would consider getting out with me. Out of this cave, away from power, away from that awful Walker and her grunting side-kick. We could have the future we talked about at Stanford."

"As I recall, Jill, I did most of that talking about that. You were silent, meaningfully silent. And that was before you went to the conference at which you got 'recruited'."

"Ok, you are right. But I never said I didn't want it, Chuck. There were just things going on with me that made any planning...difficult."

"So what was going on? I was your boyfriend, and you kept me completely ignorant of what was really going on with you. Tell me _something_ , Jill. If you want me to go with you, you have to start trusting me now."

"My parents were Casters. They were both Seers. They found out they should not have found out about the House they belonged to and its dealings with other Houses. I still don't know what the secret was, but knowing it put them at risk. They disappeared into the mortal world and lived as mortals. But it killed them. They hated it. Mortal life seemed insipid, syrupy; everything was meaningless slow-motion. They taught me to Cast in the basement, in hiding. I hated having to hide who I was, hated having to pretend to be...less than I was. But as I grew up, I came to terms with it. I wasn't fully comfortable in the mortal world, but I came to see merits in it my parents never could. You were the main merit. I was afraid to date a Caster, for fear that I would give my parents away. I was...reluctant to date a mortal. Until you bumbled into my life in that computer engineering class." Jill smiled at the memory, her gaze fixed on Chuck.

"You were so smart, so sweet. I was normally the quickest person in the class, even at Stanford. But in that class, you passed me like I wasn't even moving. And then you started to smile at me when you thought I wasn't looking. I didn't think you'd ever work up the courage to talk to me. I thought I would have to do it. You finally did though, in a way that blended awkward and sweet completely. I was crazy about you, Chuck, and in no time. But when you started talking about a future, I had to reckon with the reality of being with a mortal for life. What would my parents think? Would they try to stop us? Did I want mortal children? Could I shelve my powers forever?"

"I get that, I guess," Chuck commented. "But how do dark Casters get into the story? Were your parents dark Casters?"

"No. But when I started using my powers outside the basement, in high school, I used them to...rebel...against my parents, against mortals, against Casters. I used my powers to influence my grades, to interest boys, to steal clothes and money. I didn't think about what I was doing, I just felt..angry, cheated. I wanted to even some score. I didn't realize what I was doing to myself until I felt a shift in the nature of my powers, and I realized that I had crossed a line. I couldn't go back, but I wasn't wholly dark. I stopped what I was doing, stopped using my powers at all. I decided to try to do what my parents had done, and live a mortal life. Put being dark behind me by putting being a Caster behind me."

"But wait a minute, Jill," Chuck complained. "I thought you were worried about a future with me because you weren't sure about choosing a mortal life. Now you say you chose one before you started at Stanford."

"No, Chuck, I am saying I _decided to try_ _to_ live as a mortal. I was trying to do that. You helped. Until you brought up the future - and then I had to really think about whether I could keep to that decision for a _lifetime_ , to reckon with permanent mortality. That's why I clammed up. I just wasn't sure. On that trip to the conference, before they got to me, I became sure. I was coming home to you to make a future with you, the future you talked about. But they found me."

"Who is _they,_ Jill?"

"A rogue group of dark Casters who now call themselves The One Ring."

"Why did they want you, Jill?"

"At the time, they weren't much. They were just beginning, organizing, recruiting. They needed new Casters with power, Casters who were not allied with any House, Casters who were dark. They came to me and told me about what I had done. Told me about my parents. And threatened to expose them if I did not join. So I joined. What choice did I have? Then they told me you had to go. A few years later I met Shaw. We eventually...took up together and he helped me advance. I stepped into the blankness in his life left when his wife, Evelyn, was murdered."

"You should have talked to me back at Stanford, Jill. Talked to somebody."

"What could you have done, Chuck? Who could I talk to? I did not know which Casters to trust. I could not involve my parents. I had nowhere to turn. I'm sorry about your expulsion, Chuck."

"Why are you sorry? That was just another horror added to the one of you dumping me."

"No, it wasn't, Chuck. I...did it. I knew I could not resist you, that I would eventually draw you into my mess because you would draw me back to you. The only way I could keep it from happening was to dump you _hard_. But of course, you are too good a man to respond to that with vindictiveness like pretty much anyone else would've. You were willing to forgive me even that. So I had to get rid of you altogether. I planted the tests in your room and then I called and reported you."

Chuck sat in shocked silence.

He had never imagined Jill involved in that. He just figured he had bottomed out on Fortuna's Wheel, gotten caught in one of the bad luck hurricanes that blow randomly to person's shore from time to time. But it had all been connected, all manipulated. The One Ring had done this to him. Well, Jill had. But they had created the conditions that moved her to do it all.

Jill sat and stared at her hands, idly tearing her napkin into small strips, waiting for a reaction.

"You tell me all this and you still think we could get out of this together? Forgive me, but, Jill, are you _crazy_?"

Jill stood and walked around the table. Chuck pushed his chair back to stand too, but before he could get up, Jill slipped into his lap. She kissed him again, with the same vigor as the kiss in the hallway the night before. Chuck pulled back quicker this time. He had seen it coming.

"What, Chuck? You know how it was for us. What it was like between us. I've been stuck with Shaw, but I have never been with him without thinking of you. No one since you has made me feel like you did, Chuck. Certainly not Shaw. He is as much a golem in the bedroom as out. You can't tell me you haven't thought about me - about us, _that way,_ in these five years."

Just as he was about to figure out how to use 'time machine' in a sentence that made sense in this ridiculous context, he heard the door of the cell open. He could tell from the look on Jill's face that it was Sarah who had entered.

* * *

"Get your ass off my asset, Roberts." Sarah's voice was steely. But it was not the voice of Enforcer Walker.

"I think your asset is enjoying my ass, Walker," Jill said, deliberately not looking at Sarah but gazing at Chuck.

Chuck slipped one arm around Jill's back and another under her knees and he stood up with her, depositing her unceremoniously on her feet. Jill looked shocked. Chuck heard Sarah chuckle.

"Jill, I can't deny that, while we were together, I thought what we had was wonderful. All of it. And of course, it crossed my mind during the last five years." He was not eager for either woman in the cell to know how often it had before the advent of Sarah in the Buy More. "But I know now that what I thought was wonderful was an illusion. All the things that made it seem so good were half-truths or thorough lies. I wouldn't go anywhere with you, Jill."

Disappointment and anger and a dash of contempt flared in Jill's eyes. "You're a fool, Chuck. I don't know what Walker has you doing here, but you have to know _she's_ feeding you lies hand over fist. The woman has never told a truth in her life. Do you understand who she is? She _belongs_ to Langston Graham, Chuck. She's his appliance. She's a cold-as-death manipulator. She can't have feelings. What is she promising you? Money? It'll never happen. Sex? That might happen, but only so she can control you. It's a standing tactic of Enforcers - of course, I guess 'standing' there is misleading, but who knows? _Everything_ she has said to you, Chuck, _everything_ she has done for you or with you, has been under Graham's _orders_. Everything. I promise you."

"Enough, Jill!" Sarah shouted. Jill stopped speaking.

"How did you think you could get out of The One Ring, Jill? Tell us and we will do our best to see that the Houses go easy on you. Leave Chuck alone. Just tell us. You haven't got anything else to bargain with."

Jill glared at Sarah for a long time. Eventually, she sat down. Chuck turned finally to look at Sarah, but her gaze was still fixed on Jill, smoldering and full. She did not look at him. After a moment, she walked past him and took his seat. She motioned for Jill to sit back down in her chair. As Jill sat, Sarah turned back to Chuck.

"Leave, for now, Chuck. Let me talk to Jill."

* * *

When Chuck walked out of the cell, Casey was waiting for him. He lead Chuck to the monitors where he and Sarah had been watching Chuck and Jill talk. Casey motioned to one seat and sat down in the other.

"You know that stuff about Walker is crap don't you?"

"Yeah, Casey, I do. It's just the shock of all that Jill told me. I hardly knew how to react to her story about us. And then she starts on Sarah."

"Walker knows what she is doing. Listen."

* * *

So, Jill, you really think Chuck is going to run off with you?"

"Maybe. I hope so. But I know Chuck. He won't let me be mistreated. He will help me. My best chance at a good deal is to have him as my advocate. I don't know why he is here - I doubt it is because you needed to hire a hacker. But if he is here, he plays some role in what is happening. I want him on my side. He's been on my side before, Walker...and on top of me, and behind me..."

"Fine." Sarah's voice was a sharp knife. "But do you actually _want_ him?"

"Yes, I do. What I told him about the last five years is true. He has always been on my mind. No one has compared to him."

"That I believe," Sarah said simply.

"You do? Why? ...Wait a minute. You and Chuck. You actually _are_ together? You aren't just handling him, are you?"

"No. Yes, Jill, we are together."

"Well, that is surprising. Surprising: not because I can't imagine Chuck being attractive to someone. He was and is to me. I believe he would be to anyone who got to know him. But it is surprising because, given your reputation, I figured the only reason you weren't dark is that you really had no soul. I couldn't imagine you genuinely attracted to anyone, much less someone like Chuck. He's special. And, except for your power, and this brassy Jean Harlow thing you've got going with your hair, you aren't."

Sarah let that last bit go. "Yes, he is special. And I doubt you really want to get into a No Soul Sweepstakes with anyone, Jill. Because, although Chuck hasn't brought it up, don't think it has not been on his mind: you nearly murdered a man in front of us last night, Jill. How seriously are we supposed to take your _I'm not all bad_ act? You are dark and as far as I can see you have no intention of being anything else, even if you could. And despite what you may have told yourself at Stanford or told yourself since, you never would have chosen a mortal life. You would always have been most in love with your power. You would never have loved Chuck, you would have only used him. And that is why you are dark."

Jill narrowed her eyes at Sarah but said nothing, at least for a little while. "So, Sarah, tell me true - you want a life, mortal life with Chuck? A regular job, a minivan, a house in the suburbs, rugrats? You, one of the most talented fighting Casters alive, a woman like you, that's what you want? Who do you think you are kidding? You are no more in love with Chuck than I am, not really. You are lying to yourself as surely as you say I am to myself. Are you going to have dinner at five? Are you going to walk the dog, change diapers, unload the dishwasher? Game night? You and me, Walker. We are the same. I'm just a little farther along the rail tracks we both share. You'll catch up, and you'll leave a mess of Chuck behind you on the tracks, just like I did. Poor bastard. He gets to live this nightmare twice."

* * *

Sarah kept her gaze steady, focused on Jill. Jill's questions probed spots that had been sore for Sarah. They were sore spots, though, before she met Chuck. But before Chuck, they had been abstract questions. Sarah could not really picture a mortal life even as it attracted her because her imagination could not flesh it out, make it concrete. Sarah had learned in the past few months that answers to abstract questions are often misleading since an abstract question is unclear. To make it clear enough to answer, the tendency is to flesh it out with fantasy, and thus to make it either too much wish fulfillment or too much dread fulfillment.

Sarah had believed she wanted a mortal life when she answered the questions in the abstract, but now that the mortal life she was choosing was a life with Chuck, the question was clear and the answer clear. She knew she wanted a mortal life with Chuck. She was done answering questions she did not fully understand. That was to cheat both her present and her future, and the people who mattered to them. Chuck's house and hers, his kids and hers: _Yes, that was what she wanted._

"Jill, our tracks diverged somewhere in the past. I found a switch you missed, I guess. Maybe that was luck. Maybe character is fate. Anyway: I am not you. We are not the same. You don't know the thoughts in my head. You don't know what I want."

A pained look flashed across Jill's face. Sarah knew she had been attacking not only her but also Chuck. Jill was cunning. She knew Sarah likely was watching her talk to Chuck earlier. She knew Chuck likely was watching her talk to Sarah now. She had expected to be able to manipulate Sarah, either into saying something that would hurt Chuck or into fully adopting the icy persona she expected. If Sarah had done the latter, in the face of the questions Jill was asking, that would have hurt Chuck. Sarah could have tried to explain it. But it was one thing to adopt that persona as she had when they were taken, another to do it now when the tables had been turned. Last night it was a protection for Chuck; here it would look like protecting herself, hiding doubts or qualms. She did not want Chuck to doubt her.

Jill was clever, Sarah would give her that. If Chuck was going to be the help to Jill she wanted him to be, she needed Chuck to begin to fret, to doubt, to second-guess himself and to second-guess Sarah. Jill had never taken seriously the thought that someone - Sarah - could face the choice she - Jill - faced and choose differently. Like most selfish people, Jill could not really imagine other minds as 'other'. The minds of other people were either extensions of her own or the others only pretended to mindedness. Sarah's honest responses were the one thing that Jill did not know how to counter.

Sarah saw Jill's resolve crumble into a heap. "I do have a list. What will it get me?"

* * *

Jill had a list. But it was on a flash drive in a safety deposit box in a bank vault downtown. She had made sure that was the only copy. There was nothing on her computer at home, nothing on paper. Even worse, she had sealed the box after the bank manager had left her with it to store whatever she had to store, and the sealing spell required Jill's touch, not just a password. This meant, Sarah thought grumbling to herself, they would have a fourth with them on the mission tonight. Jill. Sarah smiled to herself: they could always just cut off Jill's hand and take it with them. There were spells that would re-attach it later. The pain would be intense…

Sarah shook her head. Obviously, they wouldn't do that, but Jill was making Sarah a little skoosh homicidal. Even though Jill no longer seemed to think she was likely to interest Chuck in her again, she continued to take every opportunity to do so, in any way she could think to do so. She cooed and batted her eyelashes. She licked her lips and hugged her chest. She bent over, either to display her cleavage or her bottom. She managed to be once wholly and a couple of times partially undressed on occasions when Chuck had to visit her cell. It was shameful and shameless. But Jill was enjoying it. Even if it did not re-ignite Chuck's interest, it kept him embarrassed and awkward and unsure of himself, worried about how Sarah might react to his reactions. And it was getting under Sarah's skin, way under. So for Jill it really was win-win.

Except of course that Jill had, in the most important sense, lost. She had to give up the list with only the promise that Beckmann would consider what she had done and factor it into the final decision on her future. It seemed unlikely to Sarah that Beckmann would do any less than imprisoning Jill for a long while. Jill hadn't yet connected what happened the other night with Chuck, but she might eventually do so. Luckily, Jill's general disdain for mortals crept into her judgments about Chuck-she had so far given no hint of considering that a mortal might have power.

* * *

Sarah was sitting in the sunshine outside Lou's deli, waiting for Chuck. He was going to meet her for lunch. He was supposed to bring Morgan with him. Morgan had been feeling sort of left out lately, and Chuck wanted to make up for having so little time for Morgan in the last couple of weeks. Once they had Jill's list, things would likely get even more intense, so this was maybe the last time Chuck had to see Morgan for a little while. It made Sarah feel good, warm even, that Morgan had evidently asked if she could be included in the lunch plan. She hadn't gotten to know Morgan as well as she would like, yet, but they actually got along surprisingly well. When you looked past his goofy exterior, it was clear that he had a heart of gold underneath it. It was also clear that he would do anything for Chuck, and that kind of devotion to Chuck was bound to move Sarah. It was almost like she and Morgan had an unspoken bond, a willingness to do whatever it took to protect Chuck.

She saw them leave the Buy More and start across the parking lot. Chuck beamed when he saw her and waved, almost like a kid waving at his parents picking him up from camp. He was so glad to see her. He was always so glad to see her. She reveled in that gift, one he gave her daily. He made room for her, found her a place in whatever he did. For her. He still did not yet know a lot about her, but he knew more about her now than anyone else alive. And he kept what she told him in trust, treasured it. He did not judge her or pity her. He loved her.

Morgan seemed to be in a brown study as he walked to Lou's, and not his normal slightly hyper self. He stared at the pavement, chewing on his lower lip. She wondered what was up. And then it struck her. Chuck had mentioned it the other night - but they hadn't had time while in Cave to talk about it - that Morgan had confessed being smitten with Lou. He had not let on about it when he saw that Lou's interest in Chuck and that Chuck wasn't wholly indifferent to Lou. But now that Chuck was out of the picture, and now that Lou had retired the Chuck Bartowski (because it just seemed too weird and too embarrassing for Lou to be making and serving anyone that sandwich with Sarah in the deli) Morgan was hoping to get to know Lou better.

She strongly suspected that Morgan was trying to think of a way of getting Lou's attention. Sarah was not at all sure what Lou thought of Morgan, or if she really had ever thought of him at all (other than as Chuck's friend), but she realized she could at least help give Morgan a chance. Chuck had come for a late lunch, which was why Sarah could take a break and eat with him; the rush was over. But that meant Lou could maybe take a break too. Since she and Lou had gotten closer, the awkwardness about Chuck had diminished. Lou had accepted him as a friend, and the shadow of wistfulness that Sarah sometimes saw in Lou's eyes when Chuck was around had become rarer. Sarah got up and went inside quickly. Lou was leaning against one of the tables, recovering from the frenzy of lunch.

"Hey, Lou," Sarah beckoned, "it's nice out - and Chuck and Morgan are going to join me for lunch. Why don't you too?"

Lou looked out at the sunshine and then nodded in agreement. She went behind the counter and grabbed a cup of coffee. Sarah held the door open for Lou. She and Lou sat down just as Chuck and Morgan finished their trek through the lot. Chuck leaned down and gave Sarah a quick, soft kiss on the cheek. Morgan said hello to her and then managed to squeak out the same to Lou. Lou noticed his obvious consternation and smiled.

They sat there in the sun, talking about their workdays, the lunch frenzy at Lou's and the funereal silence of the Buy More. No one seemed interested in electronics on this sunny day. Sarah could see the wheels turning in Chuck's head, turning in response to the wheels not turning successfully in Morgan's. Since his squeaky greeting, he'd mostly just interjected occasional one-word comments: 'Yes', 'No', 'Cool'. Sarah was struck as always by the honesty and depth of Chuck's empathy. He was suffering maybe more than Morgan because he both felt Morgan's suffering and then he suffered because of Morgan's suffering. Then she saw a flash in Chuck's face: he had an idea. His lips turned up ever-so-slightly at the corners, and he shared that nearly inward smile with her and her alone.

"Say, Morgan, what about that argument we had a couple of weeks ago?"

Morgan looked at Chuck blankly, shrugging, desperate.

"You know, the one about the best sandwich to take with you to a deserted island. You have strong feelings about that. My guess is Lou might have a thought or two about it as well."

Morgan visibly relaxed. He launched into his reasons against taking any sandwich with mayo on it, evidently his notion of the most natural place to start. Lou was both amused and intrigued. She spoke in defense of mayo, conceding that it would mean the sandwich couldn't be kept long, but stressing the magical flavor effects of the condiment. As the two of them settled into a comfortable conversation, Chuck smiled widely at Sarah. "Who knows," his smiled somehow said, "good things have come from less promising beginnings." She knew he was thinking of her walk to the Nerd Herd desk and her hand on his and her need of repair and his need of her. She absolutely knew the one thing she would take to a desert island. Mayo be damned.

* * *

As Sarah prepped gear for the mission to retrieve Jill's list, she started thinking about sitting in the sun with Chuck and Morgan and Lou. She had often seen people doing such things but she had not imagined herself as part of it, a part of a few lazy minutes on a warm, sunny day, full from lunch and laughing with people who loved you and knew you. Of course, if she had imagined it, she would have imagined it all wrong, as somehow angsty and fraught with unseen tensions and unknown motivations. But, setting aside poor Morgan's awkward interest in Lou, there was exactly none of that. But that did not make it boring or slow or pointless, it made it...real.

For the first few weeks with Chuck, her heart would occasionally run aground on the thought that she did not deserve happiness, did not deserve Chuck. She was not dark, but there were darknesses in her past, things she did not want to re-live much less share. She had been careful about her violence, about her use of power. Still, she had often had to resort to violence, to use her power. There was often damage done. She trusted Graham - up to a point. But she did not follow his orders blindly. There were times when she had apparently failed to do what he wanted when as a matter of fact she had succeeded in doing what she thought was right. Still, she had done things she wished undone, necessary but awful things, and seen things no one should have to see. Monstrous things.

The worst problem was the emptiness of it all, the chilling fact that she was very, very good at something that provided her no lasting satisfaction, that seemed to eat at her if she allowed herself to think about it. So, she mostly had not allowed herself to think about it, but that did not stop the job from eating at her. It did. Slowly and surely. It had left her less than a whole person. Jill's crack about Sarah having no soul was not so far from the mark.

Because of that, Sarah worried that allowing Chuck to continue to fall for her was wrong, that she was yoking him to an emotional invalid. She had tried once, haltingly, to say this to Chuck. She hadn't been able to say it quite right, but he seemed to intuit what she meant to say. What he said in reply was brief, clearly a thought he had been working on in relation to himself: "Sarah, don't ask 'Do I deserve it?' ask 'What do I do now?' No person ever _deserves_ another person - and that's part of what makes being together so wonderful."

* * *

Chuck was about to finish his Buy More shift. He would then slip into Cave and help finish the prep for the mission. He might also get a chance to give Sarah the kiss he wanted to give her at Lou's, but Lou was there and people were walking by, so he had settled to a quick kiss in greeting. He loved kissing Sarah, the way she kissed him back. Their kisses were like an intimate conversation, speaking in tongues. Chuck began to slip into a recollection of the first time Sarah kissed him at the ranch house.

His computer chirped, drawing Chuck back from the memory of the taste of Sarah. He looked at the screen.

 _I know your secret, Chuck._

At first, he thought it was Morgan. But then he remembered that Morgan had finished his shift earlier. Chuck looked around the store. No one seemed to be paying attention to him at all. The words on the screen slowly dissolved and the screen went blank. Chuck was about to chalk it up to hallucination when there was another chirp.

 _I've sent you a package. It will arrive by messenger in a few minutes. Do not open it at work or in front of any Caster. Talk to no one about it._

Again, the words disappeared. Chuck blinked rapidly several times. "Who?..." ]

Another chirp.

 _Call me Orion._

A few minutes later a messenger stepped up to the desk.

"Package for... _Bartowski_."

Chuck gestured to his name tag.

"That's me."

He signed for the package. The messenger handed it to him and left. It was a small cardboard box. The address had been printed by computer, not by hand. There was no return address. Chuck looked around the store again. He tore the box open, trying to make as little noise as he could.

Inside the box was a book. It was quite slim and bound in leather. It looked very much like _The Intersection_. There was no title on the spine, but across the front, it read: _A Skeleton Key to the Intersection_. Another catchy title. Why not _The Intersection for Dummies_ or _Mastering the Intersection in 90 Minutes_? Chuck feared to open the book. He looked around for the third time; he still seemed to be of interest to no one. It was time for his shift to end. He slipped the book into his bag and left, using the hidden door in the employee's lounge to head down to Cave. Everyone would think he had gone out the back.

* * *

Chuck seemed distracted as he came down the stairs. He looked up at Sarah and smiled, but he she could tell he had something on his mind. She knew that having Jill around was putting pressure on him, and not just because of Jill's brazen behavior. She knew that Chuck was torn about Jill, about their past, torn between frustration about the illusion, the wasted time, the regret, and his natural willingness to forgive. Chuck wanted to be unforgiving. He wanted to hold onto his frustration, maybe even to find a way to hurt her as she has hurt him. He wanted to do these things. He wouldn't. Sarah knew he would forgive Jill. He had already begun to do so, even as Jill worked so hard to embarrass and discomfit him. Sarah figured that the fact that they were almost done with Jill was further aggravating Chuck's sore feelings.

Chuck went down one passageway, to the lockers, and came back without his bag. He leaned down and gave her a repeat of his kiss at lunch. Since they hadn't had a moment alone together since this morning when he left her place, she was surprised at the kiss. Casey was not around. Jill was in her cell and could not see them. She had expected a proper kiss. She realized that he also normally stowed his bag only after he had kissed her, so that was weird too. Casey jogged down the stairs at that point and they began checking and re-checking the plan, and Sarah was able to give Chuck's odd behavior no further thought.

They decided the best plan was to teleport into the vault. Casey had gone to the bank earlier in the day to secure a safety deposit box of his own and to see what they were up against. He also left a magical beacon in the vault, greatly simplifying the task of teleporting in. Beckmann had decided to join them in the cave and to cast the spell herself. She was going to bring two other Casters to help her.

Shaw was a big worry. Jill thought he knew nothing about her list and so knew nothing about her hiding it. But Beckmann was less sure. She could imagine Shaw knowing about the list all along, and now using the list as bait and setting up an ambush. This was one reason they had delayed the mission a couple of days. If Shaw was planning to ambush them, he would expect them to come for the list immediately. Waiting stretched Shaw's patience, and, more importantly, his resources. It was unlikely he had many men left after Casey's raid. Of course, he could eventually get more, and that was the reason they were not waiting any longer. Timing was everything.

But there was another reason for worrying about Shaw, a different one, and just as important. He knew who Chuck was and he knew that Chuck had been working with Sarah. He might have believed what Chuck told him about that, but he might not have believed it. Anyway, they had been worried since Shaw escaped that Shaw would try to take Chuck, maybe as a hostage to trade for Jill. Chuck had been sleeping at Sarah's since they returned. He was never anywhere where she or Casey could not see him. So far there had been no sign of Shaw.

* * *

As she made final preparations, Sarah considered all this and noticed again that Chuck seemed distracted. Surely, the situation with Jill was not bothering him that much, was it? As Chuck slipped into his BDUs, Sarah stepped beside him. He gave her a quick smile and reached out to squeeze her hand.

"Chuck, are you ok? You seem...off? Is it all this with Jill?"

"No," Chuck said, taking stock of her concern and his own feelings. "I mean, that's been on my mind, but I am doing better with it. Jill didn't really steal over five years of my life. I did. If at Stanford, I had been clearer about who I was and what I wanted to do and to be, I would never have fallen for her. My troubles with myself began long before Jill; she used them to her advantage, but I should have been wrestling with my demons, not dodging them. I guess the success I was having in school made me feel that I was doing that, but I now know that my success was just another distraction. People have left me. Mom, Dad, Jill. All that hurt me badly but I refused to see those decisions as _theirs_. I thought I had done something in each case, that I deserved to be abandoned. By thinking that way, I justified what they did and condemned myself. I don't mean that I am currently standing in judgment on them. I just mean that I am no longer blaming myself. They made their choices. I did the best I could. Doesn't mean I couldn't have done better, but I did not do so poorly that I deserved to be abandoned."

Sarah had not expected all that. She rubbed Chuck's hand.

"I was really thinking more about what happens to Jill after tonight. But I am glad to hear you say all that, Chuck."

"I'm sorry for Jill. But she has to live with the consequences of her choices. I don't. I hope the Houses aren't too severe. Even knowing what she has become, I do not wish her ill. But, God, I do wish her gone."

"So, Chuck, what's really on your mind then? Something's making that giant brain of yours spin. I know you, Chuck."

"Ok." Chuck's voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I was going to tell you, but after the mission. Orion contacted me. He sent me a book. At least I think it was Orion."

Sarah allowed her eyes to show him that she was stunned. But she kept her expression otherwise fixed. Chuck had learned how to read her complicated blue eyes. Or he had to a certain degree. And she was working harder at allowing him to read them. She rubbed his hand once more as a promise that they would face this together once the mission had ended.

* * *

Chuck had not intended to keep the book from Sarah, or Orion's contact from her. He just didn't want to share either with Casey or Beckmann yet. They had promised each other: no secrets, no lies. That is how Chuck wanted it. Lies destroyed the self. A person is real only to the extent that he or she tells the truth and faces the truth. Chuck wanted to be real for Sarah, wanted her to be real for him. He did not know everything about her past. But he knew a lot about her present, and about her presence in his life. She had lived with the emptiness of lies for so long.

Chuck was so afraid. So afraid of losing her. She was wonderful to him in so, so many ways. She really was too good to be true. She was a Caster, and not just any Caster, she was Enforcer Sarah Walker. He was a mortal, just barely on solid food. He had read some book and it gave him power. A power he could neither understand nor control. That meant he was functionally powerless. He was a Reader. But having read _The Intersection_ seemed only to make worse the situation he was in before he read it. In those days, he was a guy with all this potential, but he could not do anything with it. Now, he was a guy with all this power, but he could not do anything with it. Talk about performance anxiety. He was lousy with it, but metaphysically, not physically.

Maybe Orion's book would help with that. Maybe Chuck would finally _launch_. Maybe he would finally make good on that potential or that power. Become something in the world. He had to. She was Sarah Walker. He couldn't just be Chuck Bartowski. Not for her sake, but for his.

* * *

Sometimes in the mornings, he would roll over quietly and look at Sarah and try to note every detail of her. He would try mentally to hold on to her face, her body outlined beneath the sheet, the rise and fall of her breathing. He could never quite squelch the feeling that tomorrow morning she would be gone. It wasn't that he thought he didn't deserve her. It wasn't that he thought she was faithless, that she would leave him. Not that at all. It was…

...It was captured somehow in the contrast between Sarah and Jill, the difference in how he felt about them. He had thought Jill was _the one_ back at Stanford. He had thought he loved her. He had thought she was beautiful. She was beautiful. But he never felt compelled to wake up to study her. He did not live in fear of losing her. He never took her for granted, but he never reacted to her as he did to Sarah. That had of course been part of the reason Jill had so effectively destroyed him. He never expected it. Never saw it coming. But the problem was not that he thought he was making a mistake in trusting Sarah. He _trusted_ Sarah.

What was he trying to make clear to himself?

This: Sarah was a miracle. And like any miracle, _gratuitous_ , a sudden peal of thunder, the voice of God. He believed in her, wholly. But she was a miracle. She filled his life with light. He saw everything in the light she provided. He believed in her, but in another sense of the term, Sarah was _beyond_ belief. He could only hold still and behold her. Like in the mornings. How could anyone get used to living with a miracle? Either you didn't - or you weren't living with a miracle. She was a miracle, so he didn't, couldn't, get used to her. He could only be thankful and try to make sure he constantly acknowledged the grace that filled his life. He tried to make sure Sarah knew, even though he couldn't seem to find the words to tell her. Even with all his words. He tried to make sure that every time he looked at her the miracle of her registered in his gaze.

But registering the miracle of her made him aware that he was not a miracle. It made him want to be a better man, to put away the doubt and dithering and diffidence that had riddled him for so long. He was making progress, and having Sarah in his life was the reason. Every time she said his name she roused him, rallied him, made him feel more alive, more capable. But he couldn't seem to capitalize on that, outside of his time alone with her. When it was just the two of them, he felt like there was no gap between who he was and who he wanted to be. He felt integrated. But out in the world, in public, he sometimes still felt the gap, felt gappy, felt disintegrated.

Maybe the new book Orion sent him could help him master his power, help him bring the parts of himself together all the time, in private and in public. He just needed to finish this mission and then find time to read the new book. Sarah would help him. Like she said back on the top of the building, they would figure it out. Together.

* * *

After she rubbed his hand, Sarah noticed that Chuck was lost in thought. Just when she started to ask him what he was thinking of, he turned his brown eyes on her and she felt transfigured, treasured, incomparable. _How does he do it? How does he look at me that way_? _It is_ enchanting. _But it is not an enchantment._ _It is all_ Chuck.

* * *

 **A/N** : Chapter-closing song? "When You Come" by Crowded House.


	8. Chapter 8: Regret and Relocation

**A/N:** Sing along! "Jill's making a list, she's checking it twice, gonna find out..." Ok, ok, t'ain't the season. I get it. I get it.

Continued thanks to all you beautiful creatures out there reading and reviewing.

Don't own _Chuck_.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 8 Regret and Relocation**

The chanting of the Casters started low, with Beckmann's voice leading the others'. The voices grew in volume, circling around Cave, gathering themselves, spinning, intensifying, eventually creating a whirlpool in the room that could be felt but not seen - a whirlpool of power. Sarah listened and watched carefully. Casey stood behind her, with Jill beside him, and Chuck on the other side of Jill. Jill's hands had earlier been bound by Sarah, much as Jill had bound Sarah's before. Jill looked slightly nauseated as the chanting began, but Chuck knew that it was not the teleportation to come that was making Jill queasy, risky though it was. No, it was the thought that she was about to play her final trump card and that there was no way for her to save herself. Her hand had played itself out.

Sarah turned to Chuck. "Any minute now. When I step forward, follow. Stay as close to me as you are now or closer. There'll be a sense of dizziness, then a what will seem like a long, slightly painful feeling like your ears are going to pop, like on a plane. And then there will be more dizziness. And then we will arrive. It will all be instantaneous, even if it feels like time is passing. Clear your mind and think about pleasant things." She licked her lips slowly, making sure he saw as if assigning him a topic of thought. Then she turned her head to look back at Casey. He grunted. She faced forward and then took a step. Casey, Jill, and Chuck did so too.

[Dizzy...Pressure, pressure, _pressure_...Dizzy...Bank!]

The four stood in silence, recovering from the teleportation. The bank vault was dimly lit by the weak glow of a couple of security lights. The safety deposit boxes covered the walls around them. The vault was deep in a cool, tomb-like silence, and the breathing of the four seemed to violate that silence.

Sarah turned to look at Chuck. He seemed ok. In fact, he looked a little distracted, just as Sarah had intended. Jill looked a bit worse than she had in Cave. Casey, well, he was Casey. "Ok, Jill. Let's do this. Open your safety deposit box, " Sarah waved Jill into motion.

Jill stepped forward, took a moment to orient herself, then touched one of the boxes. It glowed for a moment and then looked normal. Jill turned the small combination lock. Chuck expected to hear the box click open. But instead, he heard a loud sound, a ripping noise, as if a piece of cloth had been rent in two. Chuck saw Sarah dive to the ground and Casey too, a split second after Sarah. Jill looked suddenly terrified. Shaw and another man and a hooded figure were in the room. Shaw's hands were already moving and a chant was on his snarling lip. He pushed his hands toward them and Chuck was spun around and thrown into the wall of boxes behind him. His head snapped smacked against one of the combination dials and he blacked out.

Sarah hoped Chuck had moved. There had been no time to warn anyone. She hit the floor and felt the power of Shaw's attack blow past her. She heard Casey grunt. He was on the floor too. But, she realized, neither Chuck nor Jill had been able to get out of the way. Sarah saw Chuck slam face-first into a wall of boxes and crumple to the floor. Jill was thrown backward into the same wall. She went down, but she was still conscious. Sarah heard Shaw shout out, "Sorry, Jill, baby." He didn't sound sorry. The man with Shaw had launched himself at Casey. The hooded figure was closing on Sarah.

She felt a deep sense of foreboding, a dread at her very center. It was radiating from the hooded figure, washing over her in waves. The creature reached out to touch her and Sarah saw its leprous claw extending. She instantly knew that if it touched her, she would be dead. She rolled to the side with an elastic dexterity, Casting as she did. The figure's hooded robe burst into flame. It stopped stalking Sarah and began to beat at itself with its clawed hands. It tore the flaming garment off and turned its yellow, cadaverous eyes on Sarah. Her stomach flipped. Besides the sense of foreboding the creature radiated, it stank of carrion. The burning robe had intensified the smell and added an extra acrid note to the stench. The creature's head moved in a way that reminded Sarah of a praying mantis, its posture insectoid. It smiled at her, if 'smiled' was the right word, and began to approach her again, its yellow eyes now alight and becoming fever-green with dark desire. Sarah needed another spell. She had to think of something fast.

Chuck regained consciousness all at once but thought for a moment that the world had turned red. He swiped at his eyes and realized his forehead was bleeding profusely. Some of the blood had pooled in and around his eyes. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, wiping his hands on his shirt.

As his vision cleared, Chuck saw three things happening simultaneously: Shaw opening Jill's safety deposit box, Casey rolling on the ground with another Caster, and Sarah facing an...insect zombie. For a split second, Chuck thought his vision was playing tricks on him, then he knew it wasn't. He pushed himself up, about to rush the creature as it moved like a doom toward Sarah. Chuck didn't get far. Someone hit him, hard, and he went to the floor again. Jill! She stood over him, her face stretched into a strange mask. Chuck had no time for her, no time for her anymore at all. He had to help Sarah. He reached up and grabbed Jill's bound hands. She had hit him with them. He looked deeply into her eyes for a moment, his eyes rolled and...

[...there was a flash of bright light, a moment of peaceful calm, the sound of tinny amplified music, a glimpse of a talking animal and…]

...Jill was gone and Chuck stood and turned toward Sarah and the monster.

* * *

Sarah had a thought. She twisted her hands and muttered as fast as she could. Then she pointed at the head of the lich. Sarah filled its head with a piercing ultrasonic sound. The lich's mouth split open in a cry of agony, but the cry was soundless. She intensified her focus, making the sound more painful. The creature wavered on its feet, then crashed to the ground, a greenish pus oozing from its head. But before Sarah could react to what she had done, she saw Shaw with the thumb drive in one hand and a gun in the other. Shaw must have expended all of his power on his attack just as he arrived. He had the gun pointed at Chuck, who had just gotten to the spot where the lich had fallen. Chuck was staring, dumbfounded and horrified, at the creature.

Shaw's finger tightened on the trigger. Sarah reached to her back and whipped her hand forward in one smooth, complete motion. Her knife embedded itself in the wrist of Shaw's gun hand. She was too late to stop the shot but in time to wreck Shaw's aim. He missed.

Sarah followed her knife, ramming her shoulder into Shaw's middle, hard. They went down in a tangle. Sarah managed to get her hand to her knife, still embedded in Shaw's wrist, and she drew it out, stabbing fiercely at Shaw's heart. Shaw was strong, however, and, though not as quick as she, he got his arm up and deflected her blow. Her knife came out of her hand and skittered across the tile floor.

Shaw had done her a favor by saving himself that way. He deflected her blow with the arm of the hand grasping the thumb drive. Sarah used her now-empty hand to grab Shaw's exposed wrist and twist it violently. She heard a loud pop, and Shaw gasp and felt him seize in pain. The thumb drive came out of his hand and bounced across the floor toward Chuck.

Chuck reached down and grabbed it. Sarah flipped Shaw over onto his stomach and grabbed his damaged arms. With the last of her power, she bound him.

In the meantime, Casey had overwhelmed the Caster who attacked him. Casey had a long gash across his chest, but it did not look deep. When Chuck went to him to offer him some help, Casey grunted him away. Sarah dragged Shaw to where Chuck and Casey were standing with the unconscious Caster, and, still holding onto Shaw's collar, she rubbed the enchanted gem Beckmann had given her, to let Beckmann know they were ready to return to Cave.

[Dizzy...pressure, pressure, _pressure_...Dizzy...Home!]

* * *

Beckmann was waiting for them with a keen look on her face. She looked at the group carefully.

"Where is Roberts? Where is Jill?"

A couple of the other Casters in the room took charge of the two prisoners. Beckmann's Healer took charge of Shaw after looking quickly at Chuck and Casey. They would both require minor healing spells but could wait. Sarah handed Beckmann the thumb drive. She took it, but still kept her searching gaze on them.

"Where is Jill? Is she dead?"

Sarah shot a look at Chuck. Casey took advantage of the silence to point out the need for Cleaners to get to the vault, remove the lich, and clean up the bloody mess. Beckmann nodded her agreement and with a sharp look sent one of the remaining Casters to see to it.

"Well?" Beckmann said, the simplicity of her question underscoring the seriousness of her question. She was demanding an answer.

"Chuck?' Sarah said, turning to him. "Where is Jill?"

Sarah watched Chuck turn red and swallow hard. "Uh, Beckmann, Jill is...ah...in a better place."

Complete silence fell on Cave. No one moved. No one spoke. No birds sang. Chuck looked up, then down, then to the side.

"You _killed_ Jill, Chuck?" Beckmann asked in a harsh whisper, her posture shouting her disbelief.

For a minute, Chuck seemed deeply confused. Sarah could see wheels whirring behind his eyes. "Oh! Uh, no, no. I didn't send her to _heaven_. I sent her to...Orlando."

Now Beckmann was confused. "Orlando? From what mythology is that, Chuck? Is it Norse? _Orlando_?"

"No mythology, ma'am. Not Norse, South. _Florida_. I sent her to Disney World."

"Chuck!" Beckmann bellowed, above the shocked escalating laughter of Sarah and Casey.

* * *

Being at least a little pissed was more or less Beckmann's way of being-in-the-world so that by itself would not have had much of an effect on him. But Beckmann was pissed in a special way for Beckmann. And that had Chuck terrified.

Beckmann gestured violently for Chuck to sit down at the table, and for Sarah and Casey to join him. Beckmann sat down, took a very deep breath, paused while holding it, then expelled it with a deliberate slowness. "Chuck, explain yourself."

"I looked at Jill and I finally realized the truth. She is dark, but she regrets what she has done. Or a part of her does. She was...is...terrified of Shaw and The One Ring. I let her go."

"You shipped that...woman...the scourge of your life...to the Happiest Place on Earth?" Beckmann was almost shouting.

"Well, yeah. I get it. That seems like a bad idea. But I did something else, too."

"Chuck…" Beckmann growled.

"In the moment when I translated her, I realized that I could...erase...some of her darkness. I couldn't make her light, I am now sure that is beyond my power, but I could...reset...her. A part of her was genuinely sorry, a part of her wanted to change. I gave that part a chance. I couldn't have done it if that part wasn't there. It won't be easy, but she is no longer so far gone down the wrong path that turning back is an impossibility. So I sent her away and undid Sarah's binding spell." Chuck looked at them all, entreating them to understand.

"Sarah," Chuck said, "that...thing...would've killed me if I had gotten to it, wouldn't it." Sarah nodded. "Jill hit me. But she wasn't attacking me. She was saving me. I tried to save her back."

Sarah's vision got runny as her eyes filled. This was _her Chuck_. Jill was Jill, and Sarah would have been happy enough to see her imprisoned, but Chuck was Chuck. He just forgives. He would have been willing to see Jill imprisoned, Sarah knew, but he had found a better way. Jill was possibly still a threat, but Sarah thought it unlikely that Jill would find her way back into their lives. Sarah would have paid a lot of money to have seen Jill's face when she realized where she'd been sent. Sarah honestly hoped Jill could find a new life. Chuck seemed to have a knack for helping people do that, power or no power.

* * *

Beckmann spent a few minutes asking Chuck more about what he had done, but, as was usual, he only knew what he did, not how he did it. Beckmann could tell that they were all exhausted, and she knew that Chuck and Casey needed attention from the Healer. Chuck confessed that the headache that normally accompanied the use of his powers had settled on him. His nose was now bleeding a bit too, adding to the stains on his face and shirt. So, she ordered them to go and be attended to. After the two men left, Beckmann turned to Sarah.

"Do you think he is in any way out of control?"

Sarah was puzzled by the question. "What do you mean"

"What he did was annoying and...amusing and sweet, Sarah, but the Heads of the other Houses may not see it that way. I have gotten to know Chuck; I know what he is doing, how he understands things. But other Heads are growing increasingly nervous about him. And now he has, in effect, usurped the Houses' decision on Jill. She was to be imprisoned, not freed. That will rankle. But the fact that he also claims to have...un-darkened Jill. That is a claim that will be denied. Many will deny it is possible. I would have thought that too, except I know Chuck. He is no liar and no boaster. If he said he did it, he did. Oh, it is possible he's mistaken, I suppose. But that seems unlikely. I hadn't expected Chuck's power to work like this, to be able to do such a thing. Of course, we still don't know much about this. But it will make both dark and light Casters very nervous, very nervous, for obvious reasons. Luckily, he still seems to have no real control over when his powers come, and so far it has always been in situations of distress, danger. And so far his powers seemed somehow keyed to you. So, I ask again. Do you think he in any way out of control? Can I assure the Heads that he is with us, that he will not go rogue, pit himself against us?"

"I have a suggestion about this," Sarah said, "I think Chuck and I should move in together. I will be honest and admit I want to do this for personal reasons, but it also makes sense given your question. Chuck's powers do seem to be keyed to me. Even though we have eliminated Shaw as a threat, we know The One Ring has people above Shaw. Let me be clear: I will not be his 'handler'; I will not 'spy' on him, but protecting him in my priority, and it would like to be able to do it 24/7. Of course, he will have to agree. Frankly, I just want to live with him."

"I've seen him look at you, Sarah. He will agree."

"There is an open apartment in the complex where Chuck now lives. Would your House arrange for us to have it?"

"Yes. It will be arranged first thing in the morning. But let me say one more thing, Sarah. The person who seems to be most nervous about Chuck is Graham. He has not asked me yet about taking you from Chuck, but I worry he is planning to do that. He wants you back and Chuck isolated. So, what will you do if he _orders_ you back to DC?"

Sarah had worried this was coming. Graham had been furious at her when she talked to him in Barstow and they had little contact since. Graham did not hear refusals often, especially from her. She had been his personal Enforcer. Much of his safety and much of his power were due to what she had done for him, to the threat of her. She knew he had left her with Chuck hoping that, eventually, she would allow him to take control of the whole situation, to wrest it from Beckmann. He was not ready to let her go. Was she ready to let him go? Cutting ties with Graham would be a huge change in her life.

She had been at his beck and call for so long she hardly remembered anything else. She had chosen Chuck and committed to him. She had told Graham she would protect Chuck from him. But the possibility of Graham working against Chuck had not seemed a live one at the time, really. Now it maybe it was. Sarah knew that she was about to be tested. People made commitments, people kept them and ended them. Commitments don't keep or end themselves. Her old commitment to Graham had created and sustained her as an Enforcer. Could she end her old commitment to Graham? Had she already? Did it end when she committed to Chuck?

* * *

Chuck was in Sarah's apartment, sitting on her bed. Between them was the book that had arrived yesterday. Between them also was the completed lease for the new apartment. Beckmann had faxed it to Sarah at her apartment before Sarah and Chuck had awakened. Each was looking down at the things between them, and stealing glances up at each other.

"Look, Sarah. I know we need look at the book and talk about the apartment. But, before we do, I need you to help me with last night. We fought a...monster, Sarah, an actual monster. I mean, I know you said things about them before, but I thought you were exaggerating or kidding or something. But, _monsters_ , Sarah. God, I am freaking out. I kept it in with Beckmann around, and Casey, but... _Sarah_."

"Chuck," Sarah said softly, reaching out to take one of his hands, "I wanted to put off this conversation. I wanted to tell you, but I did not know how. Monsters are real, Chuck, but they are rare. They are also not quite what you think they are. Monsters are the creatures of dark Casters: that is how they were made. And they are made out of other Casters, often themselves dark, but not always. The power required for these...transformations...is monumental, and to get it, dark Casters have to have help and they have to kill people. Blood, death, fuels the spells." Sarah paused, looking away from Chuck for a moment.

"Because the cost in power is so extravagant, there are few monsters created, but the few are enough, more than enough. The most important part of what an Enforcer does is to capture or destroy these monsters and their creators. It is an awful task," Chuck felt Sarah's shudder through their joined hands, "and it is impossible to forget that twisted up somewhere in each of the monsters is a person. Facing these monsters and their creators often changes Enforces. Remember, _dark or dead_? Just being near them exposes you to the raw, raging darkness they represent, and it can begin to...color...you, stain you. Like getting splashed with India ink." Sarah fell silent again, struggling with herself and, obviously, with her memories.

"I hoped you would not have to be exposed to them, Chuck. I hoped it so much. I hoped it for me and for you. I spent years chasing through the underworld, through sewers and tombs, to stop them. And I have seen such things, Chuck, such things...I can't _unsee_ them. I want to be different for you...I don't know...innocent, I guess, maybe naive, childlike. I don't want to come into my life with you or...to be the mother of your children, and to harbor such memories, and to have such blood on my hands."

"'What bloody man is that?'" Chuck whispered, almost to himself. Sarah narrowed her eyes, puzzled.

"What was that?"

"Just a line from _Macbeth_. You've been a soldier, Sarah, fighting in a war. I know it will take time, but together, together we can face your past and work through it."

Chuck looked into the blue eyes of his girlfriend. Rarely had she allowed the shadow that sometimes swirled around the edges of her eyes to move front and center, but she did so now. He could tell that doing so frightened her. He put his other hand around the hand of hers he was already holding. For once, he decided to just be silent. He made sure that he kept his gaze steady and sure, and that she could see that he was holding her gaze carefully in his.

Sarah eventually broke their eyes' communion. She bowed her head and he saw she was crying gently. Chuck kept her hand in his, rubbing his thumbs across the back of hers. After a little while, she looked up and gave him a small smile.

"Can we talk about this more some other time, maybe outside in the sunshine?"

Chuck nodded. "You know, I feel the same way about the book. I want to put it off for a little while. " She nodded. "Let's talk about the lease, the apartment."

Sarah's mood brightened. She picked up the pages and waved them at Chuck. "Our own place, Chuck."

"I know. But this is your idea, right, Sarah? No one is ordering you to do it, are they? Ordering you to check up on me or to monitor me? I want this. But only if you do too."

"Well, the idea was mine. Beckmann liked it. The House is footing the bill. And it will make protecting you easier for me, and so ease my mind. But I asked because I had been...dreaming about it for a while now, fantasizing about having a home with you, wanting it more and more. This place," Sarah let go of Chuck's hand to gesture around her apartment, "is more hotel than home. I want a place we can settle into, relax into, a place that is ours. A place where I can make omelets for us. I liked Barstow that way." She smiled shyly. "What do you say, Chuck?"

"Yes, Sarah," Chuck smiled, "oh, yes." Chuck pulled her to him and kissed her.

* * *

A little later, Chuck picked up the book Orion had sent him. "Should we look at this?" He waited and Sarah nodded. Chuck opened the book gently, turning the front cover back from the block. A slip of paper fell out. On it was written a note. It looked like it had been dashed with a wide nib fountain pen.

 _Chuck,_

 _Be sure to read it backward._

 _Orion_

Chuck had held it up so that Sarah could read it at the same time he did. She shook her head; she had no idea why that would matter. Chuck flipped to the back of the book and turned to the last page. He began to read. Even as his eyes traveled right to left, he had a distinct feeling that something was happening to him, in him. With each page that he read, he felt...different. At first, the feeling was welcome, like unshouldering a burden he had not known he was carrying. But as he turned the final pages, it began to feel like something that was his, a part of him, was being taken from him. Before he could even try to resist, he turned the first page.

He looked up. Sarah was watching him, holding her breath. "The pages looked blank to me, all of them. Did you read them?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I did. But they look blank to be now too. Like before, with _The Intersection._ Something happened while I read, but I don't know what."

"Was it bad? Do you need something? Water? Aspirin?"

"No, no. I'm ok. I guess we'll just have to wait it out, see what happens. Let's keep this between us for now, ok? I don't want to tell Casey and Beckmann and have them watching me to see what this reading will do to me."

"Ok, Chuck. Do you feel your power, feel like you can access it if you want to? Casters can feel their power, sort of like a very low hum in the background. Easy to ignore, but there to remind you."

"No, I don't feel any different now than I did before I read this." He waved the book in the air. "I felt something as I read it, but I don't know what it means if anything."

"Come here, Chuck. It would probably be a good idea if I gave you a thorough going-over, head to toe, just to be sure nothing is wrong…' She smiled hungrily.

* * *

"The Houses did not react to Chuck's freeing of Jill as I feared," Beckmann reported to Sarah the next day, "but they were unhappy about it as a group. Despite my best efforts, they have decided to bench Chuck for a while. They have created a special subcommittee to consider Chuck and his power, and, well, everything Chuck…"

They were standing in the late afternoon sun, watching Chuck and Morgan and Devon finishing up moving Chuck's stuff into the new apartment. Sarah hadn't needed any help since her belongings almost all fit into her suitcase. She and Chuck had made a couple of trips and had her moved in before lunch. Chuck, on the other hand, had lots of stuff. But now finally it was nearly done.

"So, you mean that one of the things they are 'considering' is my involvement with Chuck?"

Beckmann looked up at Sarah and shrugged. "I suppose so. Interestingly, although Graham ended up on the subcommittee, he did not push for it. I am having a hard time getting a read on him. Have you heard from him?

"Not a word. He seems determined to stay out of contact. He knows we don't see eye-to-eye on Chuck. So, what do I tell Chuck, how should I break this to him?"

"Make sure he knows I am completely on his side. And I suspect this subcommittee, like nearly every committee, will just be a device to waste time, coffee and donuts. I am sending out Enforcers to round up the people on Jill's list. That will take some time. Casey will help me coordinate the operation. So why don't you and Chuck make the most of this time? I'm not benching you, but I will grant you a vacation if you want it. Settle in. Get to know each other better. Enjoy the fact that that...exasperating...man loves you so much, Sarah Walker." Beckmann smiled at Sarah through 'exasperating'. It had been clear over the past few weeks, and especially last night, that Beckmann had been warming to Chuck, as Sarah had immediately and as Casey had fairly soon afterward. Chuck had an inexplicable ability to drive you crazy and to make you love him while he did it.

Sarah smiled back. "Thanks, I will."

* * *

A figure stood in front of the desk in the darkened office. He...or it...was tall, too tall, and he wore a heavy, ornate robe over a midnight cassock. He reached out a twisted hand and put a vial of green liquid on the desk, in a small pool of moonlight gathered by a window. An eerie quiet settled over the office. The other figure, seated behind the desk but clearly in charge, reached into the moonlight and picked up the vial, turning it this way and that, watching the thick liquid slowly stretch and pool as the vial moved.

"So this will do it?"

"Yes...The victim must drink it...It will act quickly, but not immediately, several hours after ingestion...You have my...payment?"

The figure behind the desk put the vial down and pointed to the deeper shadows of a corner of the room. A young woman was bound and gagged there, slumped against the wall, her eyes bulging in terror. The standing figure nodded and breathed heavily.

"How does it work? It destroys love, is that right?"

"Yes...and no...Magic cannot _destroy_ love...Magic is an efflux of love...And so it cannot destroy love...Only time and unfaithfulness destroy love..."

"So what does this do?"

"It...stretches and distorts other emotions...particularly fears or anxieties, even small, inoperative ones...across the love, obscuring and hiding it...The victim will be unable to access...feelings of love...The feelings will be there, and may have consequences for the victim...but they will be inexpressible...in word or deed. The person's words or deeds will belie the love."

"How long will it last?"

"That varies across...victims...A week, maybe…"

"That is long enough for my plan. Is the experience of the victim, um, unpleasant?"

"Extremely...Imagine having the need to scream but being unable to do so...The inaccessible love...aches horribly, demands expression but the victim will not be able to do anything about the ache. Some victims have killed themselves...some have gone mad..."

The figure behind the desk picked up the vial and tossed it up and down. "Take your payment."

The only sound in the office was the young woman's gagged attempt to scream.

* * *

 **A/N** : Chapter-closing music: "Secret Meeting" by The National. - Oh, I know that Norse/North pun was grossly self-indulgent. Chuck just couldn't help himself...


	9. Chapter 9: Being, Having and Halving

A/N: Thanks to those who are reading and reviewing. A slightly shorter chapter. The next will be shorter still.

Do not own _Chuck._

* * *

 **CHAPTER 10 Being, Having and Halving**

Sarah was very excited about the time off, the time off with Chuck. She and Chuck had been unpacking their things and placing them around the apartment. Sarah had, unexpectedly, found herself eager to decorate their new home, to decorate it with something other than just movie posters for _Tron_ and _Indiana Jones,_ with something of herself. She was glad to have Chuck's things around her, but she had spent almost all her life in places with no trace of her and in which she left no trace, wiped clean (first by her father, then by herself), with no evidence of her time there. She wanted to leave fingerprints here.

She and Ellie and spent a wonderful morning together shopping for things and Sarah was just finishing putting pictures on the mantle. In the center (she had moved Chuck's Han Solo figure to one side and his Dr. Strange figure to the other), she put her favorite picture of her and Chuck. They were seated in the bright sun in front of the deli. Lou had taken the picture one day when neither Chuck nor Sarah was aware, and the resulting picture showed both their faces shining with unguarded emotion as they looked at each other. The picture had become an icon for Sarah, her revelation that she could _be_ \- and could belong - in a world of light. It showed their love: simple, real, everything.

* * *

The plan for the tonight was for a housewarming party. Ellie, Devon, Casey, Morgan, Lou. Casey had even grunted something about bringing a date. And Morgan seemed to be making a good impression on Lou. They had graduated from talk of desert island sandwiches to talk of the best food in LA for under ten dollars. Lou hadn't said much to Sarah about her the nature of her interest in Morgan, but Sarah noticed Lou stealing glances at the door of the Buy More, and her reactions showed that she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Morgan.

Morgan had been promoted at the Buy More and had been named Assistant Manager. Bizarrely, he seemed to be taking the job quite seriously and to be doing it well. Morgan's hopes for Lou were creating new hopes in him for himself. The little man was bigger than people thought.

There was a knock at the door. Sarah, expecting it to be Ellie or Devon, spun the door open. In the doorway stood a willowy redhead.

"Carina!"

"Walker, hey!" Carina took inventory of Sarah and visibly winced. Sarah looked down at herself and realized she was in old jeans and one of Chuck's threadbare Stanford shirts. She had a bandana around her head, holding her hair in place. Her feet were bare. Carina seemed torn between laughing and frowning.

"God almighty, Waker! What has happened to you?"

Carina slipped past Sarah and into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. She swept her gaze around the interior. He gaze came to rest on the mantle. She took in the triptych of Han Solo, the picture of Chuck and Sarah, and Dr. Strange. Her jaw dropped and hung from her face like a front porch swing. She stood silently for a while. "Damn, Sarah, Damn."

"Welcome, Carina, and, yes, please, do come in." Sarah's tone was a complicated one of welcoming snarkiness. "What are you doing _here_? I thought you were in...Porto Alegre?"

"The question, Walker, is what are you _doing_ here? You look like a...a...housewife." Carina visibly shuddered when she said the final word. She stared at Sarah's feet. "Don't tell me...those," gesturing at Sarah's feet, "come with one in there?" Carina's eyes traveled up Sarah's body to settle on her stomach, and she gestured at it.

Sarah put her hand on her stomach and smiled. The gesture was genuine and a taunt. Carina's eyes grew huge. "Walker, this guy," Carina waved her hand vaguely at the picture she had been fixated on, "this guy knocked _you_ up?"

Sarah deliberately delayed her response, increasing Carina's anxious discomfort. "No, Carina, I am barefoot but not pregnant. Although we are having...conversations...that are moving us in that direction. Someday. Maybe soon."

Carina plopped down in a chair. "This is so much worse than I thought!"

Sarah was beginning to get annoyed. "What do you mean…'than you thought'? How do you know anything about it? I haven't seen you in what...almost a year?"

"You should know how gossip makes the rounds, especially when it's about someone like you, someone who had created a lot of fear and envy among Enforcers and Casters generally. You've created a lot of malicious glee among folks, a lot to talk about."

Sarah shrugged. She'd long ago gotten used the being the object of envy and gossip. Graham's favoritism, her competence, and her looks had made her less than a universal favorite. She certainly wasn't ashamed of Chuck or of her feelings. _Let them talk, let them all talk_. _I'm happy. And that will make them even more unhappy._ Sarah sat on the couch.

"Sarah, he's a mortal," Carina whined, getting up and stepping closer to the picture on the mantle. She leaned in close to the picture, studying it for a long time. "Cute, I grant, and he looks tallish, but he's mortal. What could he possibly have that Bryce didn't?"

"Oh, I don't know. A deep soul. A sensitive conscience. A big heart. Huge, beautiful, homey brown eyes."

"Over-rated. There are more...interesting bodily parts. With more interesting ratings." Carina finally pulled her gaze from the picture and sat back down.

Sarah, who kept her love life to herself almost always, except for an occasional effort to embarrass Casey, responded to Carina with a blush and a wide and widening grin.

"Walker! You are blushing."

"Well, Carina. You know what they say about guys with big hearts…"

Now, Carina blushed. That never happened. They sat smiling at each other for a few seconds, although Carina's smile had strange undercurrents. Then Carina's look grew openly serious.

"Sarah, what are you doing here?"

Sarah became sober. She thought carefully as she spoke. "I am building a life, Carina. With a man who wants to build a life with me, a man who is kind of a genius at that sort of thing."

"But you had a life, Walker. A great life. Power, money, clothes, looks, Larkin. What was missing?"

"Me, Carina. Me. I was missing. And none of those other things, including the last one, especially the last one, mattered in the way I thought they did."

Carina's look was uncomprehending. Sarah knew that Carina did not do self-reflection. Carina feared self-knowledge more than monsters. One reason for Carina's frantic activity, her jumping from mission to mission and occasionally from bed to bed, was to keep at least a step ahead of any self-realization. That didn't make Carina a bad person, or even a shallow one, exactly. She was neither. But she did embrace an ignorance of herself incompatible with stable happiness. Sarah knew that there were nights when that fact almost caught up with Carina, more nights than Carina would admit. She also knew Carina was slower than she used to be, getting easier to catch. A reckoning was coming.

"Whatever you say, Sarah. When does the dreamboat dock?"

"He'll be home soon."

" _Home_?"

* * *

At that moment, Chuck walked through the door. He had a Buy More bag under his arm. When he saw the redhead he put the bag down on the counter and walked across to her.

"Hi! I'm Chuck!"

Carina flirted with bad manners. She stared harshly at Chuck. He stood with his hand out but, after a few moments, the smile that accompanied the extended hand became less genuine.

"Carina!" Sarah bit into her friend's name.

"Sorry, Chuck. It is Chuck, right? I just wondered what the man would be like who could take Sarah's heart."

Chuck looked to Sarah, hoping for guidance. "Chuck, this is my old friend, my best friend, Carina."

Chuck extended his hand again, his smile refreshed. Carina took his hand and smiled back tautly.

"I'm so excited to meet you!" Chuck chirped. "Are you a...um…?"

"Yes, Chuck, she's a Caster." Sarah got up and stepped to Chuck. "Thanks for grabbing those things at the Buy More." She gave Chuck a quick kiss then sat back down

"Glad to, Sarah. So, Carina," Chuck said, folding his long legs and sitting next to Sarah on the couch, "what brings you to town?"

"I wanted to see Walker. It's been a while. I...wondered how she was doing."

Chuck nodded. "Well, it really is great to meet you."

Sarah noticed that Carina was looking at Chuck with a hint of suspicion. She seemed to be studying him. Sarah was used to Carina's strong reaction to men, her determined, often outrageous flirting, but this was not that. It was strange and it was making Sarah nervous.

"Carina, are you ok?" Sarah asked the question kindly, although she was beginning to get angry with Carina's efforts to make Chuck uncomfortable. Chuck so far had meekly endured it. But he did not know Carina, and so he may not have been rightly understanding her actions and reactions.

"Carina is just back from Brazil."

"Oh, wow! I've never been out of the country. Where were you? What was it like?"

Carina became herself again. "Oh, great. I was in Porto Alegre. It's big. Busy. Beautiful sunsets."

"I guess it's not like Rio? I mean, I have never been, but I figure we think of Rio as Brazil the way folks from other countries think of New York as the US."

"Not Rio. That's for sure. Say, Walker, do you remember our second trip to Rio? You were in rare form!" Carina laughed with extra emphasis.

Sarah stiffened. Carina ignored it and went on. "So, we had finished our mission and had been crawling from bar to bar when Sarah's boyfriend, Bryce, showed up in town, unannounced. Our girl here was...glad to see him. You should have seen her with him on the dance floor! Everyone in the place needed to get a room when they finished."

Chuck grinned. "I bet! Sarah is a great dancer. I love to dance with her, although I am not very good. I love to watch her dance." He smiled at her, and she knew he was remembering her dancing at the club, the dancing Casey ended. Amazingly, he was remembering her dancing with him, not imagining her dancing with Bryce. "I'm hoping that we'll have some time soon for her to teach me."

Carina froze, not expecting that response at all. Sarah had reddened in embarrassment and anger, but then looked at her boyfriend with a grateful smile.

Carina's face was all puzzlement. Sarah knew that Carina had meant to provoke Chuck. Since Sarah had still not talked to Chuck about Bryce, beyond the little she had said at the Mexican restaurant on their first date, she panicked at what Carina had done. How would Chuck react? But Chuck refused to be provoked. And Sarah knew him well enough to know he was not pretending. The story had not upset him. Bryce had not upset him.

Sarah could not understand what Carina was doing. Had she come in and fawned over Chuck or even out-and-out hit on him, Sarah would have been pissed but unsurprised. It was Carina's way. Carina even thought of it as a kindness, a test of the intentions and motives of the man. This act, at once skeptical, slightly hostile and baiting, was not really in character. What was Carina doing?

Carina got up from her seat and walked toward the kitchen. Looking back over her shoulder, she said: "I'm going to get something to drink. Anyone else?" Sarah, knowing that attempting to wait on Carina was wasted effort, let her go and asked for a glass of water. Chuck thanked her but told her he was fine.

Sarah slipped her arm around Chuck and pulled him closer to her. He leaned in for a quick kiss, but she turned it into one full and lingering. "Remind me about the dancing lessons later," she noted, "I have a new move or two I'd like to show you."

* * *

Carina opened the cupboard and got two glasses. She filled both with water. She quickly slipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a small vial of green liquid. Cupping it, she turned quickly to look back into the living room. Sarah was kissing Chuck soulfully and then whispering in his ear. Carina turned back to the counter before Chuck or Sarah noticed her watching. She opened the vial and held it at an angle above one of the glasses. She paused for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowed.

She had never seen Sarah act like this before. Surely, Sarah would not, could not, be this into this guy, a mortal. Buy More bags and... _Tron_ posters? Something was wrong. And, the guy, Chuck, what guy could have listened to that Rio story with its blatant implications, and have simply been full of praise for his girlfriend? What she had been told must be true. Someone, maybe Chuck, had done something to Sarah. They were not a real couple. Sarah was like Sleeping Beauty in Snoresville. She needed to wake up.

Carina emptied the green vial in the glass and waited for it to disappear into the water. Then she went back into the living room. She handed Sarah the doctored water. Carina drank her water, watching over the top of her glass as Sarah drank the water Carina gave her. Carina couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. But she could not decide if the wrongness were the wrongness of the whole situation or what she had just done. She hoped Sarah would forgive her later.

* * *

Carina left hurriedly, hardly giving Chuck or Sarah a chance to say goodbye. They invited her to the housewarming party but she declined. She muttered some vagueness about staying in town for a couple of days and maybe seeing them again before she left, and then she hugged Sarah, nodded at Chuck, and was out the door.

Chuck turned to Sarah and lifted his eyebrows and turned up his palms. "What just happened?" Sarah frowned. She walked back to the couch and sat down. Chuck joined her.

"Carina plays by her own rules. But I admit, that was bizarre, even for her. I expect her to embarrass me. And to embarrass you a little. But I did not expect her to be so...mean-spirited about it. I'm sorry, Chuck."

"Why? You didn't do anything."

"I know. But I am sorry about Bryce, about never telling you much about him, about him and me. I mentioned him without naming him on our first date, but maybe you thought that was all a lie?"

"No, I believed it then and never doubted it since. Look, Sarah. You have been telling me things about yourself. I am happy to go at your pace. Of course, I wonder about your past. About your romantic past. You do about mine. I've told you a lot. You...uh...met Jill. But I don't worry about the fact that you haven't yet told me a lot. I believe you will. I believe that you want to tell me. Every day in so many ways you prove to me that you love me. I am not going to doubt that because of some history about a night in Rio. You weathered the whole Jill thing so bravely and considerately, especially given what I did for her at the end. You did not doubt me. Why would I doubt you?"

"I love you, Chuck. You need never worry about Bryce. Never. I haven't talked about him because I am...ashamed of my own illusions, ashamed to admit that I took that counterfeit relationship as genuine, took what he offered me as the best I could hope for. I got conned and I conned myself. The worst sort of gull, the worst sort of gullible. I knew I had been deceived, by myself and by him, before you and I left Barstow, Chuck, and I have never looked back. The way I felt about you in Barstow totally eclipsed anything I felt for Bryce. And I love you even more now."

"I love you too, Sarah, and even if your friend, Carina, is...well, let's say that it is not clear that I am the only one with a best friend who can be...problematic now and then."

Sarah laughed and took Chuck's hand. "Let's finish putting up the pictures and posters. Where does the _Tron_ poster go, the _Indiana Jones_? Do you like what I have done with the mantle?"

* * *

Later that evening the housewarming party possessed the apartment. Chuck and Sarah had done enough to make the apartment presentable. Sarah thought it already felt warm and welcoming, a place for a life and a place for hospitality. The decor was already showing itself an amusing and interesting blend of Chuck's tastes and hers. For every _Indiana Jones_ poster there was a Cezanne print, and so on. Chuck looked so happy that he could burst. Sarah felt the way he looked. She knew that everyone else was basking in their glow. Sarah looked around the room, feeling her heart full. She had never even imagined being in a place like this, a place of hers, of hers and his, and so, so happy.

Morgan and Lou were laughing with Ellie and Devon. Morgan had earlier shared with Lou the story of his teenaged obsession with Ellie, and Ellie, Devon, and Lou were laughing at some of Morgan's most embarrassing moments. Morgan was genuinely laughing too, and each glance he stole as he talked was a glance at Lou, not at Ellie.

Casey and his date, a small dark-haired woman named Wanda, were chatting with Sarah and Chuck. Wanda worked at the gym Casey belonged to. She was a trainer. She was small and athletic, with mercurial features that registered each minor change of thought or emotion, and a quick, soft gurgling laugh that was incredibly easy to encourage and slow to stop. She couldn't have been more of an open book if her face had been covered in newsprint. She was the babbling brook to Casey's silent granite. They seemed completely wrong for each other. And completely perfect. Casey watched her keenly and listened to her avidly; waiting eagerly for each time she laughed. Her laugh visibly softened him each time he heard it. Everyone had liked Wanda immediately, and she seemed to feel welcomed and comfortable just as fast.

 _This is what I have wanted_ , Sarah sighed in thought to herself. _This is what I wanted even when all I knew was that I wanted something I could not name. A man who is my home, a place where we are at home together, a home, to be at home. Carina might not believe that 'home' is one of my words, but it is. It is. A favorite word. Hello, Chuck, hello, everyone: Sarah is home!_

* * *

Chuck was watching Sarah's face. Happiness lit her features, a sun shining in her sky-colored eyes. She saw him looking at her, and she took his hand. "Thank you, Chuck."

* * *

The next morning Sarah woke up curled against Chuck, her head on his regularly rising and falling chest, one of her legs atop his. She started to snuggle in. They had the day off. There was no reason to do anything more than enjoy the morning in bed with…

*He doesn't love me.*

Sarah heard her own voice in her head, but it sounded like it had been piped in, metallic and slightly distorted. She squeezed her eyes shut.

*I don't love him. Not really. I'm play-acting, a little girl playing house with the nerdy boy next door. I need to get up. Put on my clothes. Gather what I need, put it in my suitcase. Go!*

Sarah felt a crescendo of fear. What was going on? She wanted to wake Chuck, make him talk to her, have him chase this voice from her head.

*He doesn't love me. He's a mortal. He's in my life accidentally. He will leave me if I don't leave him first. I don't love him anyway. He's been a pleasant diversion from my real life. Diversion over. It is time to get up. Put on my clothes. Gather what I need, put it in my suitcase. Go!*

Sarah realized that she had risen from the bed, and was now walking to her closet. With practiced speed, she silently packed her suitcase, screaming at herself the whole time to stop. But her hands would not answer her decrees. Betrayers, they latched the suitcase. She quickly brushed her teeth and hair and put on some clothes and shoes.

She pulled her suitcase soundlessly into the living room. She stopped. She walked to the counter and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from a stack of used computer pages Chuck kept around for notes or grocery lists.

* * *

*Chuck,

You don't love me. I don't love you. I am going back to my apartment. The lease there is still good for a few more days. I will go from there back to DC and my job for Graham. We need to stop pretending. We may be fooling other people, but the people we are fooling most is us. Don't call. Don't come after me. We are done.

Sarah*

* * *

Sarah finished the note and left it out on the counter. She walked out of the apartment.

Once outside, after glancing around to be sure no one was there to see her, she stopped and hit the cab service number on her phone. She listened to the ring, all the while wailing inside to make herself stop, to wake Chuck. Sarah spoke into the phone, her voice flinty. "I need a cab." She stated her address. "Ok, I will be waiting."

 _Chuck! Chuck! What am I doing? Chuck!_ _Stop me! I don't want to leave home. I am not leaving you._

She pulled her suitcase to the street. A few minutes later, a cab took her away.

*He doesn't love me. I don't love him. Go!*

* * *

Chuck woke up without Sarah.

Sarah was not in the bed. He got up and called her name. No answer. He walked into the living room but did not see her. He noticed a piece of paper on the counter. Maybe she had gone for a run. He read the note. He stopped breathing. His mind stalled.

When he could take a breath again, he went through each room of the apartment.

Sarah was gone.

Her toothbrush and hairbrush were gone from the bathroom. Chuck lurched back into the living room and then wandered in circles, stopping every few steps to read the note which had been in his hand the whole time. He went back to the bedroom, grabbed his cell, and called her. He had to. Voicemail. And again. And again. And again. He went back to the living room. He started aimlessly circling again. He stopped.

He ran back to their bedroom. He threw open the closet.

Sarah's suitcase was gone.

Chuck sank to his knees, then fell forward onto his hands. He wept in an animal agony, wails followed by great gulps of air. He went on like that forever. Eventually, he collapsed onto his face, his tears soaking the carpet. One hand still held the now-crumpled note.

Sarah.

* * *

Chuck was not sure whether he had fallen asleep or passed out. He did not know how much time had past. He felt badly nauseated, seasick, his entire body invaded by an oily queasiness. The note was still in his hand. He realized that someone was knocking at the door.

Chuck lept to his feet and sprinted through the apartment to the door. He threw it open. Morgan was standing there. Morgan was wearing a smile that threatened to split his face, but when he saw Chuck, his look instantaneously fell.

"Chuck, dude, what is wrong?"

Chuck held the note out and walked back into the apartment. On his way to the couch, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey still out from the party the night before. He sank onto the couch and opened the bottle, drinking from it in long, hard swallows.

Morgan finished reading the note as he walked into the apartment. He saw Chuck with the bottle tilted up and he unceremoniously grabbed it from his friend's hand.

"Chuck, man, stop. I don't understand this. That woman _loves_ you. I know that woman loves you. Everyone who knows you knows that woman loves you. She was lit up inside with love for you just last night. That was no act. Your life with her is no act. No one is pretending. Something's wrong, the whole situation is off, Chuck."

Chuck had his arms on his legs and his head hanging. He was looking at the carpet. He could feel the whiskey burning his throat, mixing with the oily queasiness, but the feeling was not helping. His heart felt like a putty in the hands of a child, stretching, balling up, stretching, changing shape. He hurt so deeply that he wasn't sure it was possible to express it. His inward groaning was too deep for words. He couldn't think. It happened so suddenly. The only words in his head were the words of the note. _You don't love me. I don't love you._ He could not manage any thought beyond those words. They circled, _riverrun_ , through his mind.

He looked up when he heard his sister's voice. Ellie was standing in the still-open doorway. "Chuck? Chuck, what's wrong." Morgan caught Ellie's arm as she rushed to Chuck. She took the note Morgan held out and sat down next to Chuck. She took one of his hands in one of hers and held the note in the other as she read it.

"This can't be right, Chuck. It can't. Sarah loves you. I'm as sure of that as I am of anything. I know I worried about what was going on between you at first. But you two belong together. Sarah celebrates you constantly. It's in her eyes when she watches you, as she did for the entire party last night, Chuck. It's in her laughter with you. It's in every touch. I saw her looking at wedding dresses yesterday morning while we were shopping for the apartment. She didn't think I was watching, Chuck, she didn't know I was watching. Why would she do that?"

Chuck muttered something about being sick and ran to the bathroom. Ellie watched him go then looked again at the note. "Morgan, do you have Casey's number? I haven't let on that I know, but Casey and Sarah and Chuck are involved in something together. I've been patient, waiting for one of them to tell me. But now we need Casey. He'll be the easiest to break. Tell him I said to get his ass over here, now!"

* * *

Ellie and Morgan got Chuck from the bathroom to the bedroom. He had laid down and lapsed into catatonia. He just stared blankly at the ceiling, unmoving. Ellie assigned Morgan the first shift and left him in a chair beside the bed.

Ellie confronted Casey as soon as he entered the apartment. She didn't ask to know what was going on. She just told him that she knew something was, something that involved her brother and Sarah and Casey. She handed Casey the note. He read it and looked up, shock visible on his normally fixed features.

"Ellie, you are right. There is more to this whole situation than you know. I can't tell you any of it now. I'm not sure if...when...if I will be able. Chuck can't tell you either. Please don't ask him. Poor kid. I know how this must be affecting him. Sarah would never do this to him. There is an explanation. Someone will pay."

Ellie knew Casey had made her a promise. She also knew the big man well enough to know that he kept promises. He handed her back the note and then grabbed her and gave her a graceless but thoroughly warm hug. "Take care of Chuck. I'm going after Sarah."


	10. Chapter 10: Sarah Agonistes

A/N: May John Milton forgive me! Continued thanks to all who are reading and reviewing. We'll see if we can't get our heroes out of this slough soon.

Don't own _Chuck._

* * *

CHAPTER 10 Sarah Agonistes

Sarah entered her old apartment and shut the door. She locked it quickly. She turned and leaned against it. Her head felt like a small-scale nuclear device had detonated inside it.

 _Turn around. Turn around. Go home!_

*I do not have a home. I have _this_. I will never have a home. He doesn't love me.*

 _I love Chuck. He is my home. Go home! He loves me._

 _*_ No!*

* * *

Sarah put her hands around her head and slid down the door until she reached the floor. She had not wrested control of herself back from whatever the voice was inside her. But she was now able at least to resist. A little. But every effort of resistance created spikes of pain in her head and took a massive effort of will. Sarah had figured out enough to know that Enforcer Walker was now somehow in control. When she heard her voice as she paid for the cab, she knew: it was her own voice, her mission voice, and that voice was the voice in her head. She was not fighting an alien presence. She was fighting herself.

Even worse, the voice in her head, the voice she was speaking in, was not unfamiliar. She knew Enforcer Walker well, knew her tones. And for much of her life, she had been Enforcer Walker. It was as if her past self had somehow taken form in the present, and was now battling her present self for the one life available to her. For a few dizzying, nightmarish moments, Sarah had thought that Enforcer Walker was now who she was, that all her fears about her feelings for Chuck, her worries about her commitment to him, were a darkling recognition that Enforcer Walker was who she, Sarah, really still was. But if that were true, this mind-destroying doubleness would not exist, she, Sarah, would not exist. Enforcer Walker was the imposter, a thing of the past making a play for the future. Sarah knew that Enforcer Walker was a creature of magic, conjured and constituted somehow from her own history, her own lingering doubts and fears.

She did not doubt that Chuck loved her, not in the sense of any settled, long-lasting uncertainty. The opposite was true. Her settled, long-lasting certainty was that he loved her. But she was human and inexperienced in feeling this way, in housing a feeling so deep and wide and tall, and so, of course, she still had moments of uncertainty, moments when it all seemed too good to be true. There were still moments when she worried that her Enforcer mask would slide into place and lock and that she would be terrified of the turn her life had taken, and that she would run. But those were just moments, moments. Stray thoughts. Flotsam and jetsam. If she didn't have them, then maybe she really could be deluded about Chuck's love for her or his commitment to her. Those moments had not shown that Chuck didn't love her or that she wasn't committed, they showed that he did and she was. Because those moments, like soap bubbles, floated into her mind for an instant and then popped. One floated in: Chuck kissed her. Pop! Another moment, another bubble: Sarah daydreamed about a little girl with brown eyes and sandy blond hair, walking unsteadily with one hand in Sarah's hand and one in Chuck's, and Sarah already loved that little girl. Pop!

* * *

Her father had used these natural but transitory doubts against her, teaching her to treat them as insights into the essential sham of emotions, instead of as the effluvia, the backwash, of a genuine emotional life. As she had been taught to do and had done for almost her entire life, she chose shadow over substance. It was no wonder she could build nothing, that she had felt so empty all those years as Enforcer Walker. Her father in his way, and then Graham in his, had transvalued the values in her life, turned her upside down and told her she was the only one seeing correctly. The trouble was that her father's vision and Graham's vision were each skewed, so they were in no position to tell her that. The blind teaching the sighted to be blind. Optometrists checking visual acuity in the dark. Her dad didn't know any better. Maybe Graham didn't either.

Graham's pairing her with Bryce was proof of how little he could see. Bryce was upside-down too, and he made her think that being upside-down was being right-side up, that love was an act whose meaning was exhausted by physics. God, what a fool she had been! So serenely sure she was on the inside of the universe's secrets when she was wandering lost in some enshadowed antechamber distant from everything real and worthwhile.

*Bryce was _right_ for me. Easy. He saw nothing but my flesh, asked for nothing but that. A woman to bed and to display. That is all love is, that is all love can be. _Chuck_ is the fool. I am just flesh, nothing more.*

 _No!_

* * *

Sarah thought with horror about the note she, Enforcer Walker, had left for Chuck. It had been crafted for maximum damage. She could not bear the thought of Chuck's feelings when he read it. She nuked him. _Only someone as close to him as I am could have hurt him so deeply with so few words. He's been abandoned so many times._ Sneaking out silently had not just been to ensure that Enforcer Walker got out of the apartment unimpeded, it had also been to ensure that Chuck found the letter without any preparation, to heighten his sense of abandonment. It had been an attempt not just to burn but to incinerate that bridge behind her.

She had tried to contact him telepathically, but Enforcer Walker would not allow the attempt to come to anything. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway, since Chuck could only communicate telepathically when his power was upon him or coming upon him. She was trapped inside her past self, a snake pushed back into a skin it had shed, new wine poured into an old wineskin. She was rejailed in her bathroom mirror.

Sarah realized then with luminous clarity that the spell she was under was possible only because of a fact about herself: all these years, what she had taken to be a praiseworthy self-discipline involved something else, not really praiseworthy at all. She had imprisoned herself. Enforcer Walker had been her warden. What was now the result of magic had first been largely the result of her own benighted choices. For years, the person she really was, her real desires and wants and emotions, had been fed nothing more than bread and water, had seen no sunlight, had been taught no vocabulary that would allow her to say, and so to see, what was best or noblest around her or within her.

She had to find a way to fight back. _I will come home, Chuck, or I will die trying! I love you!_

* * *

Morgan was unsure what to say to Chuck. He had never seen Chuck so deeply hurt. Not even after Jill. That had been bad. This was catastrophic. He needed to say something, anything. He needed to try to get Chuck to do something other than dwell in his pain, get him to think. He had never seen Chuck's eyes, always alive with intelligence, this dead, this...unthinking.

"So, Chuck, Lou said she would go out with me again. I'm not trying to torment you, man. I just know that, since you are Chuck, even now you'll be happy for me. I really like her. She makes me feel different, like I'm walking around satisfied. You know what I mean? Wait, I don't mean _sex_. I haven't touched her. Well, I mean, I have held her hand and kissed her. But you know what I mean. And I won't unless I am completely sure that is what she wants. How is it that when you find the woman you want more than any other woman you've ever known, you are suddenly willing to wait?"

Silence. Silence. Then...

"It's because you know," Chuck's voice was thick, almost strangulated, "that you want _her_ , body and soul, flesh and spirit, all together. You want her to give you herself, not a part or piece or aspect of herself. Because you know that what you will see in her eyes if you are ever with her will be more exciting than anything you see when she takes off her clothes. Anybody can sleep with a body; it takes a lover to sleep with a soul." Chuck's voice choked off for a moment. "I hope it works out, Morgan, and I am happy for you. And I am glad you told me."

"I know what...the note said, Chuck, but you know you were not just sleeping with Sarah's body. She was not just sleeping with yours. Don't believe that note, Chuck. That note is a lie. Listen to yourself."

"She wrote it, Morgan. Why would she lie? Why would she say such things unless they were true? Unless she had been harboring them all along. It's all mangled, Morgan. All these lies, they are what I thought was a life."

Morgan could not keep his eyes from filling. He didn't believe the note, but Chuck did, and his friend's misery was too great not to share. He sniffled.

"Do me a favor, Morgan. Could you put on one of my Psychedelic Furs albums?"

Morgan wiped his eyes. "Sure, Chuck, which one?"

 _"All of This and Nothing."_

Morgan sighed to himself and then found the album among the many in Chuck's collection. At least Chuck hadn't started misquoting John Hughes films. Although maybe it would be better if he did. Morgan put the album on the turntable and carefully dropped the needle into the groove.

"Thanks, Morgan. I need time to myself. Tell Ellie I'm ok, as ok as I can be."

Morgan left the room as Richard Butler began to sing "Heartbreak Beat".

* * *

Casey knocked on the door of Sarah's apartment, none too gently. He heard sounds from inside, but no one answered, so he knocked again, hard. The door swung open and there stood Sarah. Casey looked a second time. No, Sarah had not answered the door. This was Enforcer Walker. She hadn't been around in Barstow or Burbank really, except for brief appearances in the bar that first night, and when Sarah and Chuck had been taken captive by Jill. Casey felt a sudden touch of fear. Enforcer Walker was a frightening woman.

"Uh, can I come in, Walker?"

She pressed her lips together tightly and he thought she was not going to allow him in. But then she stepped aside.

"What are you doing here, Casey?" Her voice sounded strange, almost as if it had been run through an audio processor, compressed and auto-tuned.

"Look, Walker, I just came from...your place."

"I don't have a _place_ , Casey, and I won't have this apartment for much longer. I am leaving Burbank. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check on you, Sarah." She blanched when he used her first name.

"Don't call me that. We aren't friends. I don't have a place and I don't have friends, except Carina."

"Carina? Has Carina been in town?"

"She was in town yesterday around midday. Stopped by for a visit. Seeing her helped me get clear, get out of the pink fog Chuck has had me in for weeks and weeks."

Casey felt a suspicion begin to harden into a certainty. "So Carina did not stay long?"

"No, she left. But she said she would be in LA a little longer. I think I will find her tonight and see if she wants to do something, maybe go clubbing. Tomorrow I am on a plane."

Casey knew that if Carina had cast a spell, Chuck or Sarah would have seen it. Carina must have done something, though. Casey knew her, even had a bit of history with her. She was trouble, always raising a ruckus. But she wouldn't hurt Sarah knowingly. They really were friends. So what could have happened? If Carina had done something to Sarah, Chuck's powers would have flashed. They hadn't. Why? What was going on?

Walker had not been pretending. Casey had been an Enforcer for too long, had seen too much. She could not have fooled him day in, day out, fooled everyone. _You can't fool all of the people all of the time_ was a truism even Enforcers had to recognize. He had seen Sarah over and over in situation after situation, including when she believed no one was watching and she was watching Chuck. Casey had never seen anyone so in love - unless it was Chuck.

"So...did you guys have lunch with Carina?"

"No, she left before we made lunch."

"Well, since you hadn't seen each other in so long, did you maybe have drinks to celebrate?"

"No. Too early in the day for me. Carina only drank water."

The hair on Casey's neck stood up. "Did she by chance get it herself, maybe get you some?"

"Yes, Good Lord. Now, get on with it Casey, why are you really here?"

"Because of Chuck, Sarah. I didn't think that grief could kill anyone, except maybe slowly, but I worry the kid'll be dead before the day is out."

Casey stared into her eyes, searching out a reaction. The thick ice of the blue thinned for a moment, and it was as though Casey could see love and terror trapped beneath the ice, trying to break free, to get a breath, to scream.

He banked on his suspicion being right, and in that instant in which she was off-balance, he hit her hard. He knew he had to make his one shot count. She was capable of killing him. Luckily, the instant unbalanced her for long enough. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Casey said "Sorry!" as he bound her with a spell and called Beckmann. And then he called Ellie.

* * *

A/N: The shortest chapter of CvBC. But the one that may have taken the most work. Let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11: Eyeless in Gaza

A/N: Our scope begins to widen again. Continued thanks to all you beautiful creatures who are reading and reviewing.

Don't own _Chuck_.

* * *

CHAPTER 11 Eyeless in Gaza

Beckmann arrived at Sarah's apartment first, as Casey had expected. Sarah was still unconscious. Casey had used a traquillizer after the blow he had struck her. She would be out for at least a little while longer.

Casey had quickly told Beckmann his suspicion on the phone and she was came prepared to help. Casey had told Ellie that he thought Sarah might need a doctor and a friend around, and since she was both, she should come. He also told her that she would get some answers. Ellie said she would be over as soon as she had checked on Chuck.

Beckmann entered after Casey answered her knock. She went immediately to the bed, where Casey had put Sarah. She began casting straightaway. After some quiet phrases and a couple of twists of her hand, a dwimmer appeared and settled onto Sarah's unconscious form. It glowed pinkish for a minute, then disappeared. But after it did so, Sarah's lips glowed faintly green. Beckmann looked at Casey.

"You were right, John. She's been dosed. Who did this?"

"I am virtually certain it was Carina."

"Carina Miller? The Enforcer? But Miller is Sarah's best friend. Sarah has saved Carina's life more than once. Why would she do this?"

"I suspect she was either dosed herself or lied to by someone she would find it hard to disbelieve. But I don't know who that would be. I tried to contact her telepathically but got no response. I tried her phone number in Sarah's phone. Same. I am actually worried about her too now."

"One battle at a time, John. You said you were going to call Eleanor Bartowski. Did you?" Casey nodded, curious about Beckmann's reaction. "Good. We need a doctor, and the more limited the circle the better. The men who have been watching over her have a high opinion of her and of her intelligence and her medical skills. I worry that a couple of them may be a bit compromised. We're lucky that Devon Woodcomb is in the picture or we might have more of what we have with Sarah and Chuck. These Bartowskis! Let me take the lead when she arrives." Casey nodded again.

There was a soft knock on the door.

* * *

Carina's stomach heaved. She felt like she had to vomit. The air around her was sticky, moist and full of stenches. She was in a darkness so complete she could not see her hand before her eyes.

She knew, from touch, that she was chained to a wall. And she also knew, from her power's failure to respond, that the chains were enchanted. She was going nowhere, contacting no one.

She thought she heard a noise in the room, heavy breathing followed by an expectant sigh. Then she heard a door open and close. But no light accompanied the sound.

She hung her head and fought not to gag, but she felt a gag coming, coming, irresistible. She prepared herself to face a future of dark misery.

 _Carina, what have you done to yourself? But, even more awful, what have you done to your friend? How could you have mistaken her happiness for a_ spell _? Are you that far gone, Carina, that much in denial that anyone could be happy? How could you have let yourself be used like this? Sarah, I am truly sorry!_

* * *

Ellie stood looking down at Sarah on the bed. Sarah's hands were bound by a glowing cord, and she was, although not conscious, thrashing back and forth on the bed, gasping and perspiring. Casey was standing beside her, making sure that she did not hurt herself. He also had a cold cloth with which he gently wiped her brow. Beckmann was explaining the situation to Ellie.

"So, Eleanor, Sarah has effectively been slipped a drug, but a magical drug. My best guess is that it is an anti-love potion. It has taken her existing fears, doubts, insecurities about Chuck and her, however small, and amplified them until they drown out her love for Chuck. Or I think that is what it was supposed to do. But given her condition, her discomfort, her distress, I would say that Sarah's love for Chuck is resisting, fighting back, and so Sarah is experiencing a pitched metaphysical battle between two different parts, or maybe different versions, of herself. It would be like possession - except that she is being possessed by _herself_. 'Self-possession' - in a different sense of the term. Paradoxical, but real, obviously." Ellie looked bewildered. Beckmann reached out to touch her arm gently. "If it is this hard for us to understand, imagine what it must be like for her to experience it."

Almost as if on cue, Sarah sat up, her eyes open but seeing nothing, and then two cries, one after the other, both recognizably Sarah's voice, but the second in a timbre unfamiliar to Ellie.

" _Chuck! I'm here._ "

*He does not love me.*

Sarah's hair was matted to her head, her face pale but her cheeks and forehead pink. She had bit her own lip, and there was a trickle of blood running down her chin. The blue of her eyes had become less saturated.

Ellie shot Beckmann an anguished look. She had seen Beckmann cast the spell that had helped to identify the nature of the potion. She had been told about the first spell that had revealed that Sarah had been given a potion. She could still see Sarah wrists held by a rope that had no material presence even as it bound her.

But Ellie had three things helping her through what might have been a moment that sent her running, screaming, out the door of the apartment. One, she had a disciplined, genuinely empirical mind: she accepted, as a principle, the possibility of things that would throw her understanding of the world into serious disarray. She did not think she knew where to draw the limits of possibility. Two, she loved Sarah and would not abandon her, no matter how strange a situation that put her in. And, three, she loved her brother as much as she loved herself, and she knew how much Sarah meant to him. Leaving her would be like leaving him. And Ellie had never left Chuck, and she never would.

So, she compartmentalized her shock and panic, and became Sarah's doctor. She administered a sedative, and soon Sarah's thrashing stopped. She checked Sarah's vitals. Her blood pressure was elevated and she was running a high fever, but otherwise, she was ok. The fever worried Ellie, though. She had Casey go on with the cold compresses on her forehead, and she was able to give her some aspirin.

It seemed a bit odd to be combatting magic with aspirin, but a fever was a fever. Something needed to be done. She had a million questions, including exactly how her brother, a 'mortal', as Beckmann put it as she had explained a bit more to Ellie, could have magical powers. There seemed to be no end to the kinds of trouble Chuck could get into. She sighed quietly to herself.

She noticed Casey watching her as Sarah grew calm. Ellie smiled at him and he smiled back, a hearty smile. She knew it was his way of both thanking her for her reaction to Beckmann and to him, and for her taking care of Sarah. He wiped Sarah's face.

* * *

Beckmann was seated in a chair by the window, thumbing through a large book she had taken from her bag. She looked up when she realized that Sarah was still.

"Thank you, Eleanor. I am going to try a counterspell. I believe I can undo the worst effects of the potion, but it will...linger...in her for a while. I don't know for how long. But I hope to end the constant torment and give her back primary control over herself. I have hope because the people who did this underestimated how strongly Sarah can love. She cannot break the spell on her own, but she is fighting furiously. If the counterspell works, we will need to be careful with her until the spell is entirely out of her system. She will be fragile. The counterspell should not put undue stress on her system, but it would be a good idea to let her rest before we try it."

Ellie bowed her head slightly in understanding just before her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen and then at Beckmann and Casey. "Morgan."

"Hello, Morgan."

Ellie felt her chest constrict again like it had when she had walked in and first seen Sarah. She gasped. Her voice became a cry.

"Slow down, Morgan! What do you mean, 'Chuck has been taken'?"

* * *

In the darkened office, the figure was staring again, as so often, at the piece of an ancient manuscript in the pool of light on the desk.

 _What is this "simple magic" of a "ring of no worth..." that finds more favor in the eyes of the "Regent of heaven" than the priceless treasure from "from the uttermost seas"?_

The figure touched the paper, surer than ever that the plan to stop it all was going to work. Walker had been...neutralized. Bartowski was in...safe hands. Everything was falling into place. Soon. Very soon.

* * *

Chuck woke up very slowly.

It was as though someone was dripping consciousness into his eyes with a dropper...

...drip drop drip drip drop...

Excruciatingly, little by little, the world came into view and into focus. He was in Dr. Frankenstein's lab. Or at least that is what it looked like. He was still groggy, unsure he could trust either his eyes or his judgment.

The large room was rectangular with a tall ceiling. The walls were made out of large cut stones, quite old. Chuck felt the slight tug of memory but ignored it in order to take everything in. He was seated roughly in the center of the room in a large chair, like a barber's chair, the kind Floyd used on _The Andy Griffith Show_. Chuck and Morgan watched re-runs of the show as kids. They both had a crush on Andy's girlfriend, Ellie ( _Hey, maybe that's how Morgan's obsession with Ellie, my sister, got started!_ _Oh, and her last name was...Walker. Weird.)_

Chuck's current problem was that the chair he was in seemed to belong to Evil Floyd, since Chuck was held in place in the chair by heavy, belted leather straps around his lower forearms and around his ankles. He tried to move, but could not. His head was being held in place by a metal band, wrapped tightly enough around his head to keep him from being able to even turn his head side-to-side. He could see long tables made out of rough, thick planks of wood, and on them were computers and other technical machinery, as well as old leather books and odds and ends of what Chuck now knew to be Casting tools, supplies, and paraphernalia.

He knew he had been drugged. How long had he been unconscious? But his intuition told him he was not in Kansas, that is, Burbank, anymore. The peculiar smell of vegetation and the damp kiss of high humidity (he had awakened covered in sweat), immediately suggested the jungle. He had gone on an archeological dig during his junior year to The Long Wall of Quang Ngai. He knew the smell of the jungle. He knew that wherever he was, it was a place like the jungle he knew there.

Chuck knew he was very hungry and very thirsty. It was likely that he had been unconscious for at least a day. He could have been taken by normal means almost anywhere in that amount of time, but if magic was involved, no jungle on earth would be too remote. Did anyone know he was gone?

The word 'gone' echoed in his mind, and suddenly his eyes filled with tears. Sarah was gone. And now so was he. How could he get her back when he was strapped to a chair in some distant jungle? She would vanish back into the world of Casters, be Enforcer Walker again, and he would never see her. The tears on his face ran down to his chin, pooled momentarily, then fell onto his shirt in slow, fat drops...

...drip drop drip drip drop...

 _Sarah!_

* * *

Ellie listened to Morgan's story then hung up the phone. She turned to Casey and Beckmann and repeated the gist of it. Morgan had gone into Chuck's room to check on him. He had heard a sound, and thought maybe Chuck was ready finally to get up and talk. But when he opened the door, he saw three _ninjas_ (Morgan's word) in the room. They had Chuck off the bed, one holding his feet and each of the others an arm, and they stepped forward with him and then simply vanished into thin air. But as the one holding Chuck's feet stepped forward, Morgan dove toward him and managed to grab the dagger out of the sheath on his side just as the ninja disappeared. Morgan still had it. He told Ellie there was a design on it.

Beckmann calmed Ellie down and sent Casey back to Chuck and Sarah's apartment. Sarah was doing better; her fever had gone down and she was in a deep sleep. Beckmann feared the worst for the team of men she had assigned to the apartment. That they had raised no alarm suggested that they had been taken or killed. Everything was coming apart. Team Bartowski had been reduced to rubble in a handful of hours. She called the House and dispatched a new team and sent in a team of cleaners, just in case.

* * *

It took Casey a while to return. He had to explain to Morgan much of what Beckmann had explained to Ellie. But unlike Ellie, who accepted it in calm incredulity, Morgan, despite his very real fear for Chuck and Sarah, was clearly excited by it all. _The world was magic! His best friend was dating a witch (but not Jill)! His best friend could do magic!_ Casey got Morgan to calm down and then sent him home. He had assigned one of the members of Beckmann's team to watch over him.

* * *

Casey had the dagger. On its pommel was a symbol that he and Beckmann had seen before, the same one as on Shaw's lighter. The Belgian. They knew who had taken Chuck. But how had the Belgian found him? And, most important, where had the Belgian taken him?

Casey explained the situation to Ellie as well as he could. She had taken in a lot in one day and he could tell that she was getting punchy. After a bit, she told him she had heard enough for now, and she returned to Sarah. Casey could tell Sarah was doing better. Beckmann was preparing the counterspell. It was time to cast it. Ellie stepped back from the bed.

Casey chanted together with Beckmann for a few minutes, and then he stopped and Beckmann continued on her own. She took one of Casey's hands and then reached out and took Sarah's right hand. Ellie was watching, her eyes wide in amazement. A pinkish light began at the intersection of Casey and Beckmann's hands and traveled along her arm, enveloping her and then traveling along her other arm to Sarah. As it reached Sarah's hand, it began to turn red, then redder, until she was herself enveloped in an angry red glow. The glow pulsated, growing ever more red, until Casey saw Ellie shield her eyes with her hand. Sarah's eyes snapped open and her lips parted. Slowly, a greenish vapor issued from her mouth and was burned away by the red glow. Sarah's lips closed and her eyes did too. The red glow slowly returned to pink, and then reversed its direction of travel until it extinguished where Beckmann's hand met Casey's.

Ellie slumped in the nearest chair, her mouth agape. Casey walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "It's a lot to take in, Ellie, a lot to accept. Don't rush it." She shook her head at him, and he could see the strength in her eyes beneath the stunned confusion. She would be ok. These Bartowski's were strangely tough for such gentle people. Casey had never known those two features to be united before. Like Ellie today, and Morgan, Casey had been finding the world to be a bigger place than he had known before.

"Sarah will be awake soon, Ellie. She will be weak. When she finds out Chuck is missing...well, that's going to make what we saw already today look tame. Sarah is not just a Caster. She is an Enforcer, like me. But she is better than me, more powerful. She will want to go after him. We need to find some way to make her wait. She will not only be weak. As Beckmann said, the potion will have lasting effects. They will dissipate, but slowly. We need to find a way to make her stay here for a little while."

Ellie nodded slowly. "I will do what I can, John. And thank you, for today and for looking out for Sarah and my brother."

* * *

Casey had gone out for coffee and brought it back before Sarah began to awaken. At first, she was badly disoriented. She expected to be in bed with Chuck, in their apartment. She panicked when she realized she wasn't. Her panic grew when she realized exactly where she was and that Chuck was not there. Beckmann soothed her, calmed her. Ellie helped. Sarah drifted back to sleep.

Casey finished his coffee. Beckmann did hers. Ellie drank at hers fitfully, but never finished it. She checked Sarah once more. The fever was gone. Most of her color had returned. Casey put his hand on Ellie's shoulder.

"You should go home. Beckmann and I will manage from here. Talk to Morgan tomorrow. You two can help each other with all this, and with Chuck being taken. We've been so worried about Sarah's reaction to that, we haven't done anything to help you with it. We will find him, Ellie, and we will bring him home. I...am fond of him too. And that woman," he gestured with his shoulder toward Sarah, "will storm hell's gates themselves barehanded in order to find him. Go home. Try to get some sleep. I will call you in the morning."

* * *

Casey was sleeping in one chair when Sarah woke up. Beckmann was sleeping in the other.

"Chuck? Chuck?"

"Walker, Sarah, it's me, Casey."

There was a long silence. "Casey, why am I in my apartment? Where is _Chuck_? What has happened?" Sarah sat up, then gasped and grabbed her head in pain. Casey moved to her quickly and gently pushed her back onto the bed. She reclined, her eyes still squeezed shut.

"Let me answer those questions one at a time, Sarah. You were given a potion, an anti-love potion." Sarah's eyes shot open in question. "Yeah, I know. I never heard of such a thing either. Some dark shit, Sarah. We are pretty sure it was Carina who dosed you." A look of pain of a different order crossed Sarah's face.

"Why, Casey? She's my friend, we trust each other...But she did act bizarrely when she visited, even for her…"

"I believe she did it either unwillingly or unknowingly. We can't find any trace of her, Sarah."

Beckmann, who had by now also awakened, listened closely.

"I need to get myself together. Get Chuck. We need to find her." Sarah started to lift the blanket from on top of her.

"No, Sarah." Beckmann's command was softly spoken, but still identifiably a command. "You need rest. And there is more to tell. I'm sorry, but there's no good in keeping this from you. Chuck is gone too. Taken."

Sarah sat up straight. Her eyes were suddenly wet and wild. "What do you mean? Taken? Where was I? Where were you two? How could this have happened?" Sarah's voice grew more desperate with each question.

Beckmann moved to the bed and sat down on it beside Sarah. "Sarah, do you remember how you got here?" Sarah looked at her blankly, tears now streaking down her cheeks. Then there was a flicker of memory.

"I came here. I didn't want to but I did. Or I did want to but I didn't." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I don't understand...Wait. I came by cab. I brought my...suitcase. I left the apartment. Chuck was sleeping. I wrote him...a note. Oh, my God." Sara's voice faltered. Her hands began involuntarily to twist her blanket. "I wrote him a note, Casey. An awful note. I remember every hurtful word. Oh, what did I do?" Sarah began to weep. Beckmann scooted close and pulled Sarah's head onto her shoulder, even as the weeping intensified. The sobs were full of sorrow and self-loathing.

* * *

Sarah quieted after a few minutes. Her control reasserted itself. She leaned back from Beckmann's shoulder but gave Beckmann's arm a gentle squeeze as she did so. "I can deal with the regrets later. Even if Chuck understands, what I did," there was a shift on Sarah's face, a new acquist of understanding, "what Enforcer Walker did, was to deliver a sledgehammer blow to his deepest fear. I would, she would, know just how to do that. I don't know if we can find our way back from that. If he can find his way back to me. But none of that matters right now. What matters is finding him. If I can't be with him," her voice broke, even as she tried to keep it firm, "then eventually someone will be. He has to live. He has to love. I can't live in a world where Chuck Bartowski is not alive, or a world in which he no longer loves." She wiped her eyes. "Casey, tell me the story."

Casey told her everything that happened. Morgan finding Chuck. Ellie finding them both. Ellie's phone call. What he told Ellie. Finding Sarah in the apartment. Knocking her unconscious. Beckmann and Ellie. Morgan's phone call. The dagger. The Belgian.

And then Sarah got a strange look in her eyes. "Chuck didn't realize they were coming?"

"No, Morgan said that Chuck made no sound. But he should have, shouldn't he? What happened to his power?" Casey had been wondering about this for a while.

Sarah dropped her head. She then told Casey and Beckmann and Ellie about the second book, about reading Chuck reading it backward.

Beckmann shook her head. "I know you two were worried about what might happen to Chuck, what the Houses might do. But you know that Casey and I are on your side. You should have talked to us, told us. I don't know if that book was from Orion, but I am almost sure that it worked, read backward, as a suppression of _The Intersect_. Chuck's powers as a Reader were put in abeyance. But even worse, given the especially tight relationship between Chuck's powers as a Reader, and the way he just _is_ , the suppression almost certainly intensified his experience of abandonment when Sarah, ah...Enforcer Walker...left. He had little or no defense against his abandonment or the Belgian. He's out there, powerless."

Sarah listened silently but with intensified, visible self-reproach. But she did not interrupt. Beckmann finished and Sarah laid back down. Through her tears, she spoke her determination: "I know I need rest. I will sleep tonight. Sleep is a weapon. Tomorrow, Casey, we are going to see Shaw about The Belgian. He will tell us where Chuck is or I will make ash of him." As she finished speaking, Casey heard Sarah's voice modulate into Enforcer Walker's. He shuddered.

* * *

A/N: The lines on the manuscript fragment are borrowed from H. D.'s supercharged book-length poem, _Helen in Egypt_.


	12. Chapter 12: Existential Enforcer Crisis

A/N: Existentialism and an exotic locale. Kierkegaard in the Jungle? Well, an exotic locale and a skoosh of existentialism. (Say, does anyone else think that the line about 'an existential spy crisis' is one of the few lines that YS flubs in the show? It's like she doesn't fully understand the line and so just says the words. Maybe it is just my ear; she seems otherwise to be almost pitch perfect through the show.)

Very glad lots of folks are reading this but would love to hear from more of you. [Pecking on the inside of your monitor screen. Peck. Peck. Peck...Anybody out there? Hello? Hello? It's just me, Zettel. What's up? - What's up with me? Oh, you know, writing a bit, teaching, playing the guitar.]

Don't own _Chuck_. Making no money.

* * *

CHAPTER 12 Existential Enforcer Crisis

Sarah's dreams were bursting with pain and death and darkness. Shards of the nightmares of her past, still embedded in her memory, moved, cut deep into her psyche. The things she had seen. The horrible deaths of innocents, mutilated children, abused women. Monsters, fears enfleshed, afoot or on the wing, vermillion fangs and bloody claws. And through it all, she was there, running not away from but toward the horrors. And then she _was_ running away. Beside her, suddenly, was Chuck, running too, but reaching out to take her hand just as she felt too exhausted to take another step. She grabbed his hand and she was no longer so tired. She even began to gain strength. He smiled at her. Just as she smiled back, she saw blood gush from his nose and mouth, holes appear in his chest. She realized she had heard gunfire a moment before, from somewhere behind her. Chuck stumbled and fell. When she stopped, she heard him say, "Run, Sarah, run. This is as far as I go."

*He never loved me. I never loved him. Dark or dead. Dark or dead. Only a monster could have lived my life. Graham sent his monster to kill others' monsters. Chuck should have been running _from_ me.*

* * *

She woke, gasping for air. Casey was already up. A tray of coffee cups and a bag from the nearby bakery were in his hands. He saw her distress with concern, but he could also see that she was not willing to share it. Beckmann was snoring softly in the other chair.

Casey handed Sarah a coffee. She took a sip gratefully, trying to swallow the bitter nightmare with the bitter brew. She put her cup on the nightstand, then grabbed some clothes and toiletries from her suitcase. "I will shower. Then we will get to work. Thanks for the coffee."

Casey grunted his understanding. But just as she opened the bathroom door, he cleared his throat, looking at Sarah and then away from her to the sleeping Beckmann.

"Beckmann thinks that even though the counterspell worked, it will take a while for all its effects to clear your system. Enforcer Walker will still show up in your head now and then. You need to be prepared for that, prepared for her."

The look Sarah gave him told Casey his guess was right. "She will always be with me, Casey. Maybe not as she was in the past and will be for a while, but always. I worked too hard and for too long creating her for her simply to vanish. And right now, as much as I hate it (and, God, I do hate it), I need her. She is the one who can save Chuck. I have to be Enforcer Walker now."

"But does she even _want_ to save Chuck, Sarah? How is this going to work? In your state, even with the potion defeated, if you give her too much control, you may not be able to wrest it back."

Sarah did not answer. She stared at Casey for a few seconds. Then she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

* * *

Beckmann and Sarah and Casey were seated at the central table in Cave. The topic was Shaw.

He was still healing in a holding cell. They needed information from him, but trying to take it by magical means would mean putting Shaw in mortal danger. The spell was very strong and it often left only a wreck of the mind it ransacked. The question was whether there was any other way. Physical torture was not only itself a dance with darkness, it was also rarely effective. Even if they used the spell, they might not get from Shaw what they wanted. One possible option was to offer Shaw something in trade. But it could not be his freedom. He had been asking for his lighter, even begging for it, but that was not going to happen. Maybe if Chuck had been there and able to access his power, he could have done for Shaw something like what he had done for Jill. Chuck was not there, of course.

Thinking about Chuck's powers brought them back to _The Skeleton Key_. They talked again about it, and about what Chuck had said after reading it. Beckmann continued to believe it had suppressed Chuck's power.

"Do you think Orion sent it, really?" Sarah asked the other two.

Beckmann pinched her lips and said nothing for a minute. Casey just grunted.

"I don't know why Orion would have sent that book. I never knew there was such a book. I suspect another hand involved, likely The Belgian's. Orion is mysterious but no one has ever seriously suggested he was dark. But Orion has been implicated in these events from the beginning. I believed him dead. But I now suspect he will be a major player in all of this before it ends.

"As I said, I am...disappointed you did not trust me, trust us. I hope you know that I do not regard Team Bartowski as a tool. You are...important to me. Let's try to communicate openly and honestly with each other. And, in that spirit, I should tell you that I worry very much about that slip of paper and the instructions to read the book backward. The timing is all too convenient. Chuck gets the book and Carina doses you. This was planned, a coordinated strike. The plan was to separate you two, to weaken each of you. Chuck is out there somewhere, in the hands of one of the darkest of Casters. We have to find him."

Sarah forced herself to breathe in and out, slowly. Fear and panic were one unregulated breath away. "Would The Belgian have the means to restore Chuck's powers, or...are they just planning to...take them?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but my best guess is that they plan to strip his powers from him, to take _The Intersection_ out of his mind."

"Could they do that short of killing him?" Sarah demanded to know.

"Maybe, but I doubt they will care. The power matters, not Chuck. Even if the process does not kill him, it will destroy his mind, Sarah. They would have to use a spell like the one we were talking about using on Shaw, but one vastly more powerful and malignant. I have no idea if there even _is_ such a spell, but events suggest to me that there is and that The Belgian has it. If he wanted Chuck dead, he could have killed him instead of taking him. If he took him, he must want something from him, and all he has to give is _The Intersect._ "

It was too much. Sarah lept up from the table and sprinted down the passageway to Shaw's holding cell. Casey sprang up quickly and ran after her, his reflexes surprising for such a big man, cat-like. But Sarah _was_ a cat, feline light, lithe and deadly. She heard Casey coming and sprang into a bit of shadow in the irregular wall of the passageway. When Casey came into view, she jumped into the air, spinning, and brought her foot around in a flash. She contacted the side of Casey's head and he went down, hard. Regret flashed across her face, and then she was at the door to Shaw's cell. She went in and used the override code so that the cell could not be opened from the outside. Shaw, who had been stretched out on his bunk, sat up and looked at her. He still had bandages on his hand and wrist. There was an undeniable terror in his eyes. Sarah's eyes were the ice blue of glaciers, freezing. Her face was polar and utterly unreadable.

Casey limped unsteadily into view on the other side of the heavy glass door, swinging his head from side to side. He knew the door was unbreakable and that it was warded. The magic could be undone, as could the override code Sarah had used, but it would take a long time. Beckmann hurried to catch up with Casey.

"Sarah, don't," Casey said this in a matter-of-fact tone, but his eyes showed that he was pleading. "Don't do something to find Chuck that will cost you Chuck if you find him. Don't do something that you may never be able to come back from. Don't throw yourself into the dark, Sarah. Don't."

*Make him talk. Do _whatever_ it takes. If the mission is to save Bartowski, then save Bartowski. Whatever it takes. Save him, then, go!*

"He may already be dead, Casey. If he isn't, he won't have me, he'll never forgive me. I've lost him anyway. Maybe I can still save his life. I am willing to go dark to do it, Casey, to die to do it. I'd give my soul to save his life."

"Sarah, you have to find a way to keep yourself from _becoming_ Walker. Use what she knows, use her skills, but don't become her, Sarah. You can save him. Let Walker help, but don't let her run the mission. She will only care about the mission, not about Chuck."

Sarah began casting. She turned to face the cell door and put her right hand up, palm out. The glass in the door glowed light blue, then became impenetrably black. Sarah could neither see nor hear anything from outside; Casey and Beckmann could neither see nor hear anything from inside.

Sarah was alone with Shaw. Shaw cringed and scooted back on his bed, squeezing himself against the wall.

"Daniel. It is Daniel, isn't it? Daniel, you know something I want to know, something that I _need_ to know. There's a man being held captive by the Belgian. The Belgian is your boss. The man he is holding captive is the man I love, my future husband and the father of my children. And I do love him, Daniel. I love him so much that I would die for him, happily. Do absolutely anything to absolutely anyone. So, do the math, Daniel, where does that put us? Where does that put _you_? What wouldn't I do to save a man I would die to keep alive? You know him, Daniel, his name is Chuck. You were going to shoot him and I stopped you. Maybe I should have taken your hand from you, Daniel." Sarah's fingers began to glow with power. She reached toward him, a valkyrie afire with vengeance. "What do you think I am willing to do, Daniel? What do you think I am _not_ willing to do? Give me your hand, Daniel. Give. It. To. Me. For keeps." Sarah's wide smile transfigured from great and white to great white.

"Thailand! The Belgian is in Thailand! I don't know exactly where, but somewhere in the Nakhon Sawan Province. Don't hurt me." Shaw shoved his hands under his blanket as if it could save him, save them.

She turned and waved her hand at the door. It returned to transparent. She punched in the code. Casey and Beckmann looked at Shaw, huddled in his bedclothes, cringing and weeping. Sarah walked out quickly when the door opened.

* * *

"Sorry, both of you. Sorry. Particularly you, Casey. Sorry. I pulled my kick a bit at the end, but I had to sell it. He had to think I was coming to maim him, kill him, if he didn't talk. But he did. Teleport me to Thailand."

Casey rubbed his face, still red from the blow he had taken. He shook his head and grimaced. "You owed me one. So, Sarah, Walker's not running the mission?"

"No, Casey. She's not running the mission. Maybe I can't shut her up, damn her, but I can at least ignore her when she speaks, and use her otherwise. My head is clearing. Chuck is smart. I hurt him and we will have to work through that. But when he has a chance to think (assuming he gets one) he will know that I was not playing him. Chuck _knows_ me. I am the one, not him, who keeps forgetting that. So, I have to hear Walker, but I don't have to listen to her. She is strong, but she can't be stronger than me. At the end of the day, she is me, or a part of me. How can I be stronger than myself?"

Beckmann reached out to touch Sarah's arm. "You know, Sarah, if you lost yourself to save Chuck he wouldn't want to be saved."

"I know. That doesn't make anything easier, but I know."

* * *

Beckmann quickly assembled a very large group of Casters for the teleportation spell. Getting Sarah and Casey to Nakhon Sawan would require massive power. Beckmann believed that Carina was likely being held by the Belgian too, and likely in the same place, so the hope was that Sarah and Casey could bring them both back. The plan was to teleport to the city and to trawl the shady areas of the city for information about where the Belgian might be.

Two hours or so after Shaw had given up the Belgian's location, Sarah and Casey stepped out of a warehouse and onto a street in Nakhon Sawan. Beckmann had an old friend, a Caster, Kamon Kunchai, who lived in the area, and she had suggested the warehouse as both a target for the teleportation and as a reasonably secure base of operations. Sarah and Casey were going to split up. They were supposed to meet Kamon later at the bar of the Pa Ville, a popular hotel. Kamon would also be making some discreet inquiries of her own. Every tick of the clock was like a body blow to Sarah. But she knew that letting herself go crazy with worry would be counterproductive. She had to believe he was out there, somewhere, and that she could find him.

* * *

Chuck's head was throbbing. The metal band around it seemed to be tightening, strangling his thoughts, suffocating his concentration. He had been drifting into and out of consciousness for a while. His hunger had intensified. He had to go to the bathroom in the worst possible way. Just at the moment when he thought he would yield, and begin to scream, a man entered the room. He wore a lab coat, but a strange one, white but covered in arcane runes and symbols. He had long grey hair pulled back into a ponytail. He grinned at Chuck like he was meeting an old friend.

"Mr. Bartowski. Chuck. May I call you Chuck, Chuck? I will call you Chuck. Let's do a little something to ease your discomfort." The man unbuckled the heavy straps around Chuck's arms and legs and reached down to help Chuck stand. Chuck thought his legs would give way. He had not expected to be so weak. Two large men entered the room and quickly moved toward Chuck. Each took an arm and they more or less carried him, legs moving slowly but mostly dragging, to the door on the wall Chuck had been facing when in the chair. He was able to stand on his own by the time they got him into the bathroom, and they left him there to take care of business. He looked around the small room. No windows. No ventilation. No exit, except the door he had come in. He finished, washed his hands, and walked out. The two men escorted him back to the chair. They strapped his legs back in but left his arms free.

The man in the lab coat put his hand in his coat pocket and handed Chuck a protein bar still in its wrapper. Chuck tore the wrapper off and took a huge bite. He was glad for anything but even his urgent hunger was no sauce for the taste of peanut shells and sawdust. Still, he ate. Sarah had explained to him one night when they had talked about what he should do if he were ever a captive, that he had to use every available chance to rest and to eat. Fatigue and hunger were enemies as serious as any Caster.

Sarah. As he chewed laboriously on the protein bar, he thought about the note she had left him. The night after the party they had gone to bed and had made love slowly, luxuriously, delighting in each whisper and tremble and caress. What he had seen in Sarah's eyes had excited him immeasurably, but also humbled him completely.

She had not been pretending. No actress was that good. And no woman so in love with him at one in the morning would have been out of love with him at nine in the morning. You could fall in love at first sight, true. But you can't fall out of love at the same speed. Love was not like a light switch, switch on, switch off. Once it came on it took time, an expanse of time, to go off. _Sometimes,_ he thought ruefully, _you can't turn it off no matter what you try or how long you wait._

That was a key difference between love and lust. Lust did switch on _and switch off._ It might come on again quickly, but it went off and would go off again. Lust had conditions under which it could be satisfied, and when it was, it disappeared. You could be in lust with someone at one in the morning and out of lust with him at nine in the morning. Many morning walkers of walks-of-shame could testify to that reality. But love did not have satisfaction-conditions. Love willed the good of the person loved. It did not stop doing that, couldn't reach satisfaction in doing that. It just did that. That was one reason why love could not change readily from one beloved to another, lust could change readily from one object to another.

Love was not demanding in the way lust was or, say, hunger was. _God, this protein bar sucks._ Lust and hunger could be sated, you could say, "Enough; done!". Not so with love. Lust and hunger were both forms of lack. Love was a form of surplus: 'my cup runneth over', as the phrase went in some old book Chuck had read. Chuck finished the protein bar and steeled himself against the rest of the day.

There _had_ to be an explanation for that note. There had to be. He had to stay alive to find out what it was. _I'm sorry, Sarah. I lost my way. Find me. I love you. I know you love me._

* * *

"So, Chuck, I am Dr. Mueller. The Belgian has hired me because I have certain skills with the mind and the brain, with computer chips and with Casting. It seems you have read a book. Actually, it seems you have read two books. Or maybe read one and unread the other. Can you unread a book unless you have read it, Chuck? If you read a book backward, do you understand less each time you turn the page? Questions. Questions. My job for the Belgian, and I admit I am looking forward to it very much, is to rip _The Intersection_ from you. To tear it from your mind at any cost. To squeeze you like the lemon you are. Now, don't squirm, Chuck, don't look at me with dread. And don't try to access your powers. Your backward reading of _The Skeleton Key_ has suppressed your powers. You are now nothing but Chuck Bartowski, Unreader. Remember, years and years ago, Chuck, a lemon-lime soda was the _Uncola_. Which lemon-lime soda do you prefer, Chuck? I ask you, the lemon! Ha! You are the Unreader. Soon you will be just Chuck Bartowski. And not long after that, you will not even be Chuck Bartowski. You will be a used lemon from which all the power has been squeezed!"

Mueller kept up his annoying demented chatter the entire time he was attaching various electrodes to Chuck's head. _And Sarah thinks_ I _spiral! At least I am_ sort of _funny!_ After Chuck had finished the protein bar, he'd been given a small cup of water, and then his arms had been strapped down again. Mueller had finished with the electrodes, blathering away (but mercifully _sotto voce_ ), and was now typing quickly on a computer, watching a screen that showed a representation of Chuck's brain. Mueller began to twist various dials and click various buttons. Chuck felt a twinge of pain. Nothing else happened.

Mueller seemed surprised. He picked up Chuck's cell phone. It had been in Chuck's pocket when he fell asleep in the apartment since he was hoping Sarah would call. Mueller had hacked the phone. The list of Chuck's contacts, with photographs, showed on a monitor beside the one showing Chuck's brain.

Chuck glanced at the pictures: Beckmann, Casey, Devon, Ellie, Morgan, Sarah. His primary contacts. The people at the center of his life. And Sarah, the very center, the crux, of it all. He had chosen a picture of her he took at the ranch house in Barstow, while they had been standing and talking together outside. She was smiling gently and her hair was blowing in the wind, lit by the sun. She had a guileless expression of genuine enjoyment. Her eyes were purely blue.

"Hey, uh, Mueller, old buddy. Do you think you could hit Morgan's number for me? We had a bet on which one of us would first fall afoul of an evil madman with a boring German name. He chose me, I chose him. I owe him a twenty. Go ahead, just push the button, the one next to the pic of the little bearded guy."

"Shut your mouth, Bartowski. I have to think."

Chuck watched Mueller recalibrate his equipment and then hit various buttons. This time, nothing happened at all.

"Hey, Doc. Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on?" Mueller seemed to be considering what Chuck said.

"I'm good with computers, Doc. What say we switch places?"

* * *

Sarah walked into the fourth bar she had visited and the last one she expected to visit that evening. Soon she would have to meet Casey and Kamon. So far, Sarah had learned nothing. She had heard numerous suggestions about how she might want to spend her night, usually including rather specific physical details. Most of that she had ignored, but two suggesters had decided to touch her as well as make suggestions, and there were now two men in the city whose broken fingers would keep them from sleeping well tonight.

She walked to the bar and stood beside a man of indeterminate age, who looked like he had spent the last decade or so nursing that same beer on that same stool. He had a long scar down one side of his face, indicating that he had once been on the painful end of a knife fight. Sarah reached behind her and unsheathed the largest of her knives, the knife she reserved for hand-to-hand combat. She sat it on the bar, its black blade dull but threatening in the dim light. The man looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I am looking for my boyfriend. American, tall, dark, good-looking, funny. His name is Chuck. He's being held somewhere near here by a man called the Belgian."

"Huh, ain't that sweet." He turned his head just enough to see Sarah more clearly. "That body, that hair, that face, that knife...I figured you for a _femme fatale_. But you're just a woman racing her biological clock, carrying a knife that is way too big for her."

Sarah glared at him. "Yes, you got me: I'm a mommy-wannabe on a husband-hunt through seedy Thai bars. Beautiful and highly motivated but deeply stupid."

The man had slipped his hand inside his jacket, and he spun on his barstool as he pulled out a pistol. Sarah moved faster than the man could imagine. She hooked her foot under his stool and dumped him off. He landed on his back with a crash. She stomped her boot between his legs. Sarah picked up her knife and turned to look at the others, all men it turned out, in the bar. "I am looking for my boyfriend. This guy thought he could be my boyfriend. Anyone else want to be my boyfriend?" She waved the knife in her hand. The bar emptied immediately. The men ran but each ran with his legs close together and his hands cupped in front of himself.

She turned back to the man on the ground, who was trying to get air back into his collapsed lungs at the same time he writhed in a peculiarly male pain. "Figures. They all already have girlfriends. That just leaves me and you...and my knife. A _menage a trois_ , Mr. _Femme Fatale_?"

The man began talking immediately and Sarah listened closely before she stood and walked out of the bar, leaving the man gasping on the floor. It was almost time to meet with Casey and Kamon. At least Sarah had a name to go on. She hurried her pace. Chuck was still out there. But she was getting closer. _I'm coming, Chuck, hang on._ Sarah could feel the clock ticking as her heart beat. _Hang on, hang on, hang on..._

* * *

Casey and Kamon were sitting at a table in a corner of the Pa Villa's bar. Sarah could tell from the set of Casey's shoulders that he had learned nothing. He looked up as Sarah sat down. Kamon reached out a hand. "Hello, I am Kamon."

She was small, with very dark hair and eyes. Sarah was surprised. She was about Sarah's age. "I'm sorry," Sarah offered, "I don't mean to stare. But Beckmann called you an old friend."

Kamon laughed. "Yes, we have been friends a long time, but I was a mere girl when our friendship began. Beckmann found me in an orphanage and recognized my power. She arranged for me to be brought up by good parents. My adoptive father was a Caster, although his wife was not. They were wonderful to each other and wonderful to me. I have long owed a debt to Beckmann. I am thrilled to be able to help such dear friends of hers."

Sarah and Casey looked at each other. _Dear_ friends? Beckmann had been changing lately. Chuck. He changed everyone around him. They smiled at each other, each thinking Chuck's name at the same time and knowing it.

"I didn't find out much, Kamon. What about you?"

Kamon answered Sarah. "Nothing clear. There are lots of rumors in high places about the Belgian. But few are willing to talk about him except in veiled ways. I was able to surmise that he is in Thailand, and nearby. He has collected a small mercenary army and is still offering cash to volunteers. No one seems to know where he has secreted himself, however."

Sarah offered her information. "A man I...talked to said that if I wanted to find the Belgian, I had to first find the Charmer. Damn nicknames. Why can't bad guys just be 'Bob', like on _Twin Peaks?"_

"Wow, Sarah," Casey muttered, "if Chuck were here you two would have to get a room immediately."

If Kamon understood the conversation, she wasn't showing it. At the mention of the Charmer, her face had taken on a slight pallor and she had turned her gaze to the floor.

"Kamon, what is it?" Sarah asked, gently.

"I know of the Charmer. I know where you can find him. But I must urge you not to go. Find another way."

"Who is he?" Casey looked concerned.

"A Caster. A rival to the Belgian. They do not like each other, but neither has wanted an all-out war and so there has been a long, tense truce between them. The Charmer is Thai and very old, much older than nature would allow. He has two loves. Snakes and, ah, non-Asian women."

Casey glanced at Sarah. "Tall blond American woman right here."

"Yes, I know. Sarah is...very much his type. And a Caster. A bonus."

"But if he is so old, Kamon, what is it he wants with these women?" Casey was puzzled.

"He does not bed them or watch others bed them. He wants to watch them die. He considers himself a man of honor, and perhaps by his twisted logic, he is. Here is what he will do: he will propose a contest. If Sarah can survive it, he will tell you where the Belgian is. There is no doubt he knows. But if she loses, she will be dead, and he will demand your death too, Casey. The terms of the contest will officially be between you and him. He will not contract _with_ a woman, although he is happy to contract _for_ one."

"Huh. A real charmer. What will the contest involve?"

"A monster of some kind, Sarah. The odds will...not favor you. And if you die, your death will be truly awful."

"Casey?" Sarah fixed him with a stare.

"Yes, Sarah. Let's find the Charmer. Tell us how to get there, Kamon."

* * *

Sarah was ready. She had put on her fighting gear and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She had knives strapped to each calf and the one sheathed at the middle of her back. Casey was armed to the teeth, carrying his guns in the open. They walked to the fence around the Charmer's headquarters, an old factory. There were guards posted there. They looked at Casey and then at Sarah. Seeing her, they looked at each other with subtle smiles.

"We are here to talk to the Charmer. We need some information and we have come to make a deal."

One of the guards used a radio to relay the message. After a few uncomfortable minutes, during which cameras on the fence swung toward Sarah and Casey, an answer came. The guards opened the fence and walked with Sarah and Casey between them to the stairs that went up the side of the factory toward what was once the office. One of the guards gestured toward the stairs. Sarah and Casey climbed them, while the guards took up places at the foot of the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Sarah stepped aside so that Casey could open the door and enter first. He did and she followed.

Inside was a strange scene. There were low couches in various places about the room, and heavy ornate rugs on the floor between them. At the far end of the room was a throne, apparently made of gold. On it sat an old man, wizened and drawn. The throne was covered in carvings of snakes, and there were live snakes crawling around the old man's neck and shoulders. On each side of the throne were ornate ottomans, also decorated in snakes. Seated on each was a beautiful young woman. Each was barely dressed, wearing primarily necklaces of jewels and pearls and heavy gold. The jewelry was cunningly devised to resemble scales. Neither young woman seemed fully conscious. The old man reached out to stroke one or the other of them periodically, as he might a pet. He looked at Sarah and Casey and beckoned them toward him with a weary wave of his arm.

As Sarah drew near, she could tell that the old man's gaze was fixed on her. His tongue slipped from his mouth and flicked his lips. When she and Casey neared the throne, they stopped. The old man looked from her to Casey. "You want to make a deal?" His voice sounded like it was coiling and uncoiling. His gaze slid back to Sarah, before coming to rest again briefly on Casey, and finally sliding back to Sarah. His tongue went in and out of his mouth.

"Yes. We have a...grievance with the Belgian. We believe you know where he can be found. We would like that information."

The Charmer looked at Casey. "Ah, yes, my good friend, the Belgian. I may know where he could be found. I might be glad for him to be found. But I do not give such information away. If you want it, your champion," his gaze slid back to Sarah again, "must defeat a champion of my choice. If she wins," tongue flick, "I will give you the information and you will depart in safety. If my champion wins, she will be his to claim, to do with as he wishes, until she is dead. And you," his gaze slid back to Casey, " you will die immediately."

Casey looked at Sarah and she gave him a tight nod.

"Deal," Casey said.

* * *

Chapter-closing music: Split Enz, "Shark Attack"


	13. Chapter 13: Snake Dance

A/N: A long chapter: lots to do. N.B.: The timeline of this chapter is not strictly linear, but there are internal markers to help keep it straight.

I have enjoyed the reviews and the PM's. Please keep 'em coming.

Don't own _Chuck._

* * *

CHAPTER 13 Snake Dance

Carina's wrists were swollen and sore. The shackles bit into her skin when she changed position. She was still in what she had come to think of as the Dungeon of Stenches. The air was wet and still. The wall behind her back was clammy, as was the floor under her bare feet. The chains that held her were long enough for her to sleep, but there was no comfortable position to do it in. Every few hours she was brought food and a bucket. She had to feel to find each. When she finished, the tray and the bucket were taken away. Her eyes were starving for light, and it seemed the unending darkness had finally pushed its way behind her eyes and into her mind. She was starting to mistrust her thoughts.

Her sense of place and time was gone. She knew that she growing more confused, incoherent. She had spoken with no one in all the time she had been chained. How long had that been? Only a few days, she knew. But terms like 'day' were growing meaningless. She had always been a creature of sunlight and beaches, a lover of color and crowds. This dark loneliness was driving her mad.

"Carina!"

She gasped. "Who's there?" Her voice cracked. She hardly recognized it.

"Carina, be quiet," the male voice continued in a whisper, "we must not be caught."

"Who are you?" Carina whispered fiercely.

She heard the sound of fabric rustling. Had the man just bowed to her? In the pitch black of the dungeon? Some rescuer.

"I am chained."

"I am aware." He spoke some phrases very quietly, and her chains fell off her.

"How did you do that?"

"Patience, Carina. Oh, this place!"

"Yeah, it smells."

"No, Carina. You and I smell. The place stinks. And well, you do too. But that is not your fault."

A bow and a vocabulary lesson and, uh, a personal observation. What the hell?

"Take my hand and we will leave this place."

"Look, buddy, I'm normally game for lots in the dark, and I appreciate the bow, but, just now, I'd really like to know your name before we hold hands."

"They call me Orion."

* * *

The Charmer had a pit in one section of the factory he used as his headquarters. As they reached upward, the walls of the pit became heavy chain link at floor level, and the chain link continued up for about six feet. There was a wooden platform ringing around three-quarters of the pit on the other side of the chain link fence, providing room for a large crowd to view whatever happened in the pit.

This top area was full of flushed, laughing, shouting people, titillated by the prospect of blood, power, and death. It had only taken an hour or so for them to assemble. At each of the pit was an iron-barred door. On one end, the one Sarah was standing at, the barred door stood between her and the pit. Behind her, a stairway led up from the door to the level of the crowd. On the other end, the door opened into another section of the factory, and nothing in that section could be seen. The wall of the pit on that end simply abutted against a wall of the factory. Whatever was to emerge from that door was not visible. The floor of the pit was dirt, stained dark here and there, presumably by blood and other bodily fluids.

Above the pit, in the middle of one side, sat the old man, the Charmer. He had a throne, smaller than the one upstairs, and he sat on it without either his garlands of snakes or his bejeweled pets. His eyes glistened, like the eyes of the members of the crowd. Casey stood beside him, weaponless, his hands bound by a golden cord. He was looking steadily at Sarah, simultaneously letting her know that he believed in her and that he agreed that Chuck was worth the risk they were running.

Sarah finished wrapping her hands with tape. The Charmer's men had not, somewhat to her surprise, searched her, so she still had two throwing knives and her combat knife. Perhaps this was an expression of the Charmer's 'honor'. Maybe of his confidence in his champion. Her fingers began to tingle in the familiar way caused by the anticipation of the use of her powers. The door swung open and she walked into the pit. She closed her eyes and thought of Chuck. She remembered her dances with him the night they made love the first time. She had felt so good, rapturous. She had felt like only she and Chuck existed, she had felt weightless and free, limitless. She wanted something of that feeling now.

She would need it if she was going to live through the next few minutes. If she was going to die, she wanted to die with those dances in her mind.

She heard the door on the other end of the pit swing rustily open. Initially, she could see nothing but darkness behind it, and then she saw a larger darkness looming into view from the shadows, and the crowd gave a mighty, bloodlusty roar.

* * *

Mueller had stormed out of the lab, leaving Chuck strapped in the chair. Chuck used the time to concentrate. His power might be suppressed, but it was not gone. Maybe he could find a way to it, some ingress that would allow him to reactivate it, maybe even (at last!) control it. He had been passive in relation to it for too long. He had just accepted that he could not control it, and waited for a situation to call it into action, or for some spell to solve it, or some Seer to explain it all to him.

Sitting in the barber's chair from hell, he had finally realized: _I am doing what I have too often done. Accepted that I have potential, and then waited for it to actualize itself or for someone to actualize it for me. It is time I recognized that I am the one who has to actualize my potential. No one can do it for me, any more than someone can keep warm for me. My potential cannot actualize itself. Come on, Chuck, you have Sarah Walker in your life. Find a way back to her. Do something!_

Chuck calmed himself and then began to think about _The Intersection_. He let his mind relax. He simply opened his mind and waited for it to appear, or to re-appear. His waiting was a kind of call. For a long while, nothing happened. Chuck refused to allow his mind to tense, to struggle. He remained relaxed, open. Still, nothing happened. But then, he felt a faint stirring at the very edge of consciousness and he caught a glimpse of...something. And he knew that if he could hold still, allow it to move into the center of his consciousness, he would have found a way to access his power. He sat very still. Ever so slowly, the thing at the edge of consciousness centimetered slowly toward the center, slow and slow, on little cat's feet…

* * *

And then Mueller was back, and his nightmare babbling. Whatever it was that had been inching into view vanished from Chuck's mind. Chuck controlled his features, doing his best to keep his disappointment and frustration from Mueller.

"Back again? What's up, Doc?" Chuck chirped as cheerily as he could given how thirsty he was. Mueller began working on his devices again, typing into the computer and adjusting dials and knobs. "Say, Doc, could you put on some tunes? Maybe...oh, I don't know, that great old Thomas Dolby album comes to mind. _The Golden Age of Wireless_. You like 'She Blinded Me with Science'?" Chuck then launched into a loud falsetto: " _She blinded me with science/failed me in biology, yeh, yeh_ ".

"Quiet! Another word from you and I will tranquilize you, Bartowski. You fool. Why would the book ever have chosen _you_? You are nothing, a non-entity, less than zero."

Chuck was tempted to sing a snatch of an Elvis Costello tune but decided he had pushed his luck far enough for now. He watched as Mueller continued working. His heart fell when he realized that Mueller, at last, had a satisfied expression on his face. He turned a glassy, starving look on Chuck, a look suspended above a dead possum smile.

"Soon, Bartowski, you will be nothing but a memory. The Belgian will be a Reader. And I will be a very, very wealthy man. Famous among Casters. A hit with the ladies!"

In his head, Chuck sang: "Science!" in his best loud Christopher Lloyd voice. But he kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Before Sarah could see the figure clearly, its odor assaulted her. It was the smell of carrion and filth, death. Then the figure...crawled into view. It looked like - it was - an impossibly large cobra, its body the as big around as a telephone pole. But when its hood opened, it revealed the vague figure of a man's torso, and its face, reptilian, had a moving shadow of something human about it. Its black tongue flicked, as long as Sarah's arm. It began crawling toward her, its body undulating. Sarah guessed it was twenty feet long, maybe more, maybe much more. Her features settled into an icy impassivity.

*Well, here we go. _Snakes, why'd it have to be snakes?_ *

Then Sarah smiled a supernova smile - a smile that could have been seen not only from space but from distant galaxies. Her smile flashed in Andromeda.

The monster crawled closer.

Walker had quoted Indiana Jones. _Indiana Jones._

 _Chuck had gotten to Enforcer Walker._ Chuck was _everywhere_ _inside Sarah_.

Sarah knew she was ready now. She needed to defeat this damnation and find Chuck.

It was time to get married, time for _Sarah Bartowski_ finally to fuse Sarah with Walker, to unite the woman and the Enforcer. She was all-in; she always had been. The recreated Enforcer Walker had been in love with Chuck all along, but so frightened of it, so sure not only that she did not deserve _to be loved_ but that she also did not _deserve to love_ , that she had wanted to run, to go - anywhere away from Chuck and the terror he created in her. Sarah had left Enforcer Walker behind but the potion returned her. But in the end, Sarah had been able to resist the recreated Enforcer Walker because Enforcer Walker had really wanted what Sarah wanted. They were both in love with Chuck. Or, better, she was _all in love_ with Chuck. It was time to put this lingering potion-caused self-division behind her and wholeheartedly to love Chuck - their Chuck, her Chuck. _Her Chuck_.

* * *

When the massive snake-thingy crawled into the pit, Casey felt a twinge of doubt. He saw Sarah become Walker, and he was not sure that was a good thing. As he had told her, he did not want the cost of her survival (or the cost of his, though he hadn't said it) to be the loss of herself. So far Sarah had managed Walker, although Walker had clearly been part of the action. But a fight like this could destroy the delicate psychological balance he knew Sarah had been maintaining. He had been watching her shift from Sarah to Walker and back again for many hours. She had had no time for rest and was clearly always on the verge of a breaking down in panic and despair. Her worry about Chuck was palpable, an all-but physical presence shadowing her since Beckmann had dispelled the potion's effects.

Casey's heart suddenly filled with the face of Wanda. After the housewarming party, he had taken her home. They had stood awkwardly outside her door. Casey wanted to kiss her, but it had been a long time since he had taken a woman on a date, and he was no longer sure of protocol. She gazed at him expectantly.

"Would you...ah...would you like...maybe...to go out again?" Casey stammered.

Her face split into a smile and she leaped into his arms. She kissed him. Once, twice, three times. "I was _so_ hoping you would ask."

Casey wanted to take her on that second date. His future seemed...well, it seemed like maybe he had a future. But it was in Sarah's hands now.

And then Casey saw Sarah smile. He smiled too.

* * *

{Mmmm...You look delicioussss.}

The cobra's thoughts crawled in the same way he did. Sarah hadn't expected to...communicate...with the thing.

{Cannot say the same, snake boy. Although I wonder: do you taste like chicken?}

Sarah saw the flickering tongue begin to make shapes in the air. The thing could cast spells! She lept to her side as a blast of burning force passed through the spot where she had been standing and splashed fire on the wall of the pit, a conflagration. She hit the ground and rolled immediately to her feet, casting as she did. She could feel the nuclear heat of the flames behind her. She moved the floor of the pit under the cobra; the ground moved like water. As the cobra slid toward her, she ducked out of the way and rolled several times, past the cobra. She came up with one of her throwing knives ready. It darted from her hand and flew true, embedding itself in the back of the cobra's hood.

{For that, you will pay. I will ssswallow you ssslowly and make sssure you are alive while I do. Alive while I digessst you.}

{What is it about being dark that requires you to _overshare_? Morgan overshares because he wants to connect. What's your excuse? Have you ever thought about that?}

Sarah sprinted across the pit and away from the flames and smoke gathering in the end where she came in.

{My boyfriend and I have talked about this. The Emperor in _Star Wars_? Talky. Thulsa Doom in _Conan the Barbarian. Way_ talky. (Oh, hey, I bet you like that film. Well, until the end.) Anyway, I hate talky. Let's finish this.}

Sarah cast again, the same spell she had used against the SUV on the highway back from Barstow. Billowing waves of power rolled away from her outstretched arms. She had never before felt such power. Pure, deep, integral, clean. The waves struck the cobra and lifted his giant body from the ground, slamming him mightily against the burning wall of the pit. The force of it shook the ground, the entire building. The cobra lifted its head amid the smoke and flames, and then its head sank. Sarah grabbed her black combat knife from its sheath on her back and strode across the pit. She grabbed the head of the snake. She could tell that it was injured, badly injured perhaps, but not dead, at least not yet. She lifted the head and then brandished her knife. She yelled to the Charmer.

"Do I have to behead this thing, or are you going to tell us what we want to know." She saw the Charmer speak to Casey. Casey gave her a thumbs-up. She dropped the snake. The thing's odor was really sickening up close. She wondered if she would ever be able to wash the stink off.

The flames had not yet reached the barred door she had used to enter the pit. She covered her mouth and nose from the smoke and exited. Casey was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. They walked out of the factory among the members of the disappointed crowd. The members of the crowd were careful to give Sarah a wide berth.

* * *

"Where did that come from, Sarah?" Casey asked this as they sat in a cab, heading to the warehouse that was their base of operations. "I've seen no one cast that spell with such conclusive force. The Charmer was terrified. He immediately gave up the Belgian."

Sarah was thoughtful and quiet. "I think I am one person, whole, for the first time in my life. I have always been double, Casey, part of me wanting one thing, part of me wanting something...else, not really knowing what it was that was wanted, just that it was not what the other part wanted. The doubleness was made worse by constantly using a cover. By constantly having to lie.

"I never knew exactly who I was or what I wanted to be or who I wanted to share my life with if anyone. I was never _wholehearted_ about anything until Chuck, and even realizing that I was wholehearted about him took time, the condition was so foreign to me. That damn potion may have been a blessing in disguise. It dredged up the problem. I was committed to Chuck, but so afraid of that commitment that I turned the fear of commitment into an imagined lack of commitment if that makes sense. Walker wanted to run from a commitment I had made and that she wanted, not from making a commitment. But there was a moment in the pit, when that thing came crawling toward me, when I _knew_. My fear of that commitment was gone. Walker's fear of it was gone." She paused, thoughtful again. "No one knows what the future holds, of course, but I know what I want it to hold, what I will strain every fiber to help it to hold: me and Chuck together, husband and wife, and, someday, fairly soon I hope, kids. A family. A life."

Casey could feel her blushing happily. "I saw the smile on your face, Sarah, couldn't miss it. I knew snake-boy was done. You were already the most feared Enforcer on the planet. I had a puncher's chance on that rooftop with you and Chuck; I would have had none in that pit. You are deadly, woman."

"No, I am a deadly _woman_. And we need to save Chuck This is already taking too long."

Casey grunted. He shared her concern. But then, grinning, he spoke: "Speaking of...there's a woman in Burbank I want to get back to."

"Wanda?" Sarah asked. Casey grunted affirmatively, almost musically. "I'm glad for you, Casey, and for her. She's great."

"She is, isn't she?" Casey smiled. Then he looked at Sarah. "The Charmer. You know, someone needs to do something about that guy."

"Yes, John, someone does. But not us, not today."

* * *

Chuck looked up at the monitor that showed his brain. Mueller was smiling ghoulishly. Chuck could feel nothing, or nothing much, but what the monitor showed was changing. Through some admixture of magic and technology, Mueller clearly was getting the result he wanted. In the monitor, the initial outline of Chuck's brain was still in place, but the representation of his brain's current state showed it as smaller than it had been, almost as if his brain were a shrinking corpse inside the chalk line that had been drawn around it soon after death. It was not hard to interpret the result. Mueller was draining Chuck's mind from him.

"Look. What a strange sensation it must be to watch yourself drain away, a vortex into nothingness!" Mueller was gleeful, flushed with power and the prospect of success.

A tall, thin man in a black cassock entered the room. Mueller immediately became stopped prattling and became obsequious. "Sir, come and see. The process has begun."

The man, clearly the Belgian, watched the monitor for a moment and then fixed Chuck with a look like a needle through a specimen butterfly. "How long will it take?" His voice managed impossibly to be oily and raspy at the same time.

"That is...unclear. The process is slower than I hoped. Bartowski is made of sterner stuff than he looks. But soon...Maybe twelve hours, maybe a day."

"Fine. Let me know if there is a change." When the Belgian left, Chuck suddenly became aware of just how malevolent his mere presence was. It was as if the room itself had held its breath from the time the Belgian entered until he left. Chuck shuddered. He noticed with grim amusement that Mueller did too.

Mueller checked his instruments again and then left the room. Chuck went back to trying to access his power. Again, he relaxed. As he did, something came into view, just on the margin of his consciousness. He made himself relax further. It moved slowly, delicately across the margin. Chuck couldn't make out what it was. White. It was white. White?

* * *

{Sarah!}

{Chuck?}

{No, Orion. I have Carina with me. She is safe.}

{Was she with the Belgian? Did you see Chuck, save Chuck?}

{They were not together. Chuck is yours to save. I am saving myself for the final battle. I'm losing this connection…}

* * *

Sarah was getting frantic. There was no way to teleport to the Belgian. They did not have time to assemble the necessary Casters. And although his location was not far from the city, she and Casey needed a four-wheel drive vehicle of some sort to use. Kamon was working on it, and they expected her at the warehouse soon. Each clock tick was torture to Sarah...

...Tick, wince, tock, wince, tick, wince...

Beckmann had teleported weapons and ammunition, kevlar vests and flashbangs and grenades. She and Casey had everything ready to go into the car. Kamon had insisted that she come with them. She knew the area, and another Caster could not hurt.

Sarah told Casey about Orion's telepathic call. Who knew how much power that had taken. Neither she nor Casey saw any reason to doubt either that it was really Orion or that Orion had rescued Carina. Casey had taken some of the time while they waited to cast a Communication spell. Beckmann concurred. It had been Orion, she thought, and they would take him at his word. Sarah shook her head. She had been contacted by _Orion_. The man she loved, that sometimes absurd always deeply lovable mortal man was turning all of Casterdom upside-down. _Dogs and cats living together...mass hysteria_. Sarah chuckled inwardly. For a moment, a little of her franticness quieted. At least Carina was safe. Now, Chuck. And she was frantic again.

Kamon pulled into the warehouse parking lot driving an old but sturdy looking Jeep Wrangler. Sarah and Casey began to load it immediately. Kamon got out and ran around to help them. No one spoke. In moments, they were in the car, heading into the countryside. Sarah had defeated the cobra late the night before. It was now nearly noon. Kamon told them it would take them about three hours to get there. They would have to leave the car at a certain point and approach on foot or risk losing surprise. And then they would have to wait for the cover of darkness...

...Tick, wince, tock, wince, tick, wince...

* * *

Darkness finally fell. Sarah was looking through a scope at the compound where the Belgian was encamped. She and Casey had been watching, watching and counting. The Belgian seemed to have around ten armed men in the compound. There was no fence around it, but the compound was embraced by a bend in a deep stream, effectively requiring anyone trying to enter from the side they were on to have to use the one bridge (heavily guarded and wired with explosives). Sarah knew all this from reconnaissance she had done just after dusk. Adding in the men around the bridge, the Belgian had a considerable force of fifteen men.

It was unlikely that any of them were Casters. The Belgian had not assembled many Casters yet, despite the fact that he took himself to have re-established his House. Undoubtedly, there were some. Sarah thought she had seen a couple of women, and a tall man with a grey ponytail and a decorated lab coat.

It was very unlikely the Belgian had any real intention of permanently re-establishing his House in Thailand. He had bigger ambitions. He wanted to re-establish in the States. It was likely that he had other Casters in place there, double-agents, as Shaw had been. The Belgian either wanted to somehow turn Chuck or to take his power from him. Unfortunately, the latter was far more likely. If the Belgian could usurp the power of a Reader, even Graham and Beckmann and their Houses would be sore pressed to resist him. Perhaps they couldn't. But although Sarah knew all this intellectually, little of it was part of her present concern. Everything she cared about in the world was somewhere in that compound, and she would leave with him or she would bleed out in the soil of Thailand. There was no third option.

Their plan was simple. Casey and Kamon would first swim the stream. There were two stands of trees close to the opposite bank. Each would take up a position behind one, and then Sarah would cross. Casey and Kamon would open fire and toss flashbangs into the compound. Sarah would use the noise and confusion to slip into the compound and to rescue Chuck. There were multiple generators near one of the buildings, and a power line appeared to be nearly strung that lead to it. The building was the largest structure in the compound, clearly of ancient construction. Heavy. Stone. That was the building, Sarah knew it in her chest. Chuck was there, a couple of hundred yards from where she now stood. She couldn't help herself. She tried to reach him telepathically.

{Chuck?}

No response. But that could be explained by the suppression, or by his being unable to access his powers. It did not mean...what she feared it might mean. _Chuck, I am coming. I will always come for you!_

* * *

Chuck stared at the monitor as his mind disappeared. It grew smaller and smaller. It was strange, watching yourself cease to exist as if you were up for bid at an auction: going, going, gone. Sold to the husk of a man who used to have a mind! Chuck was not in pain, but he knew he was in trouble. He was slowly losing his cognitive grasp on the world, his world. He could only sort of remember the Buy More. The Curiosity Shop was now just a name. Morgan's face was beginning to slip from him. He would have thought that beard unforgettable. But he could no longer picture it clearly. Panic and bile rose in him simultaneously. Morgan was one pillar of his life. If he lost him, it all could come tumbling down. Even Ellie and Devon. Even Sarah.

He had to try again to access his power. He forced himself to relax, to let go of his terror. He stopped watching the screen. He stopped listening to Mueller prattle. He waited, even while everything in him wanted to scream. He waited. There it was, the white on the margin of his consciousness. It began to move, as if with delicate caution, from the margin toward the center. He could feel Mueller siphoning more of him away, but he could not allow himself to react or to shift his focus for a second. The shape was now completely centered, but still out of focus. Rectangular. Smaller black rectangles.

And then it came into focus, with a red rectangle in the center of it, in the very center of his center of consciousness. The house Sarah dreamt of and that he had come to dream of too. He could feel that everything else had been taken from him. _He had lost Ellie's boyfriend...what was his name?_ He stepped up to the red door, and he opened it. _He had a sister, didn't he? What did she look like? Was she older than him?_ Standing in the open door was Sarah, dressed entirely in black, her hair and her clothes dripping inky water. Chuck stepped into the house, into her arms, and into his power.

And he knew Ellie, and he knew Devon, and he knew Morgan. He reclaimed the Buy More and the Curiosity Shop. And he was ready for the Belgian.

* * *

Carina looked at Orion. She had showered and gotten some sleep. Orion had gently bandaged her wounds. He had little to say; he seemed as preoccupied as it was possible to be while tending to her so carefully. She had no idea where she was. _At Orion's_. But where was that? She knew she was not his prisoner. Why was he keeping her in the metaphorical dark, though? She'd had a bellyful of darkness.

"What is going on, Orion?"

"The endgame, Carina. What is fate but a way of making meaning of chaos? What is chaos but a way of rejecting fate?"

"Oh, good. Cut the Delphic Oracle schtick and talk to me, remembering I am no Seer."

Orion's bespectacled face fell. Then he grinned self-consciously. "Sorry. I spend too much time conversing in corners with ancient things. I forget that others, rightly, find different forms of occupation. Let me start at a beginning."

" _A beginning_? How about the beginning?"

"The beginning is always a beginning."

"Orion!" Carina growled.

"Sorry! Sorry. Like so many stories, happy and sad, it starts with a friendship…"

* * *

Sarah watched Casey and then Kamon crawl onto the opposite bank of the stream and run, crouched, to one of the two clumps of trees. They were in position. Sarah ran to the stream, slowed and entered the water. It was black and cold and brackish. She swam strongly, with only her eyes above the water. Now that she was in motion, her worry, still wormy and live, had been pushed down. All that mattered was the mission and the mission was Chuck and Chuck was all that mattered.

She reached the opposite bank. She had chosen to take no weapons but knives. Her powers, her fighting ability, her blades: they would have to suffice. She would prefer to save the first for the Belgian. Given what she knew about him, she was genuinely worried about whether she would have a chance casting against him. Maybe she would if she could get off the all-important first volley. She knew she was more powerful than she had been. She did not know how powerful that was, though. She was also teetering on the edge of exhaustion. She'd worry about that when she had to. As she began to sprint toward the compound, she heard shots ring out. Casey and Kamon were firing. She heard yells, commands, and screams. Casy and Kamon were not just making noise. They were reducing the odds.

She made it to the outer set of buildings, mostly small huts and sheds. So far, no one had seen her. As she passed them, she heard explosions. Casey and Kamon were delivering the flashbangs and grenades. Sarah could hear confusion grip the compound, as smoke and contradictory or unintelligible orders filled the air. The fog of war.

She was twenty yards or so from the door to the building that was her target. She thought she was going to make it unspotted. But just then a group of three men with rifles ran from the other side of the compound toward the same building she was targeting. They saw her at the same instant as she was upon them. She dove to the ground, angling her body across their paths and rolling viciously into their legs. They all went down. Sarah, like a bowling ball emerging from a set of fallen pins, rolled past them. Then she sprang to her feet. She was on the back of the nearest one before he could stand. Her knife entered his upper chest in a blinding flash. She pulled it from his chest before he fell lifeless to the ground. One of the other two had managed to stand and to turn toward her. He raised the end of his rifle, but Sarah's knife left her had and buried itself to the hilt in his chest. She had followed her throw, and as the man fell backward to the ground, Sarah swept past him and retrieved her knife. The final man had turned in time to see that, and his response was to run. Sarah almost threw the knife again, but then she decided to let him go. The alarm had been raised already, and at the rate he was running, he was not likely to stop in time to factor into the final outcome.

Knife in hand, Sarah ran to the large heavy doors of the building. They were unlocked. She noticed as she dashed through them that they bore the ancient symbol of the House of the Belgian, like Shaw's lighter. The sound of continued gunfire registered on her. Casey and Kamon could not hold out long if the men in the compound were ever able to collect themselves and fight back in unison. Sarah did not have much time. She had to get to Chuck and get him out.

She entered what appeared to be an antechamber or vestibule. Facing her on the opposite wall was another set of doors smaller than but otherwise identical to the ones she had just entered. She sprinted to them. One was pushed back a bit. Sarah stopped, put her hand on the door, and took a second or two to reign in her breathing. Then she pushed the door open a little farther, enough for her to slide in.

She was able to enter soundlessly, but she realized it did not matter. In the middle of the room, she could see the man she had noticed earlier through her scope. He was standing slightly bent over something...someone: Chuck! The man was...dancing...laughing and exulting.

"Goodbye, Bartowski, and good riddance! A few more seconds and I will be able to isolate and take the book. Take the power. I hope the last few moments were awful. I wish I could have made them physically more painful, but I know they were psychologically hellish. You fought me hard, I give you that; I never imagined your mind would have such strength, such stamina, but still, the outcome was foreordained. I was always going to win."

Sarah threw her knife with her whole body, concentrating all her strength and fear in its tip as it found the back of Mueller's throat and sank so deeply that its tip emerged on the other side it. He started to weave but managed to turn around. "You were always going to die," Sarah said as she rushed past his falling body.

Chuck sat completely still in the chair. He was strapped in and his held in place by a metal band. Electrodes covered his face and his head. Sarah ripped them off him, undid the straps, and grabbed his face. "Chuck? Chuck? Please, Chuck, don't leave. Don't go. Don't be gone. There's still so much I have to explain, so much I want to tell you. I didn't leave you, not really. You have to know that, Chuck. Chuck? Chuck! Please! I want to be your wife, Chuck. _Will you marry me?_ I'm so sorry it took me so long to get here." She kissed him with passion and promise, her wet hair hanging down into his face and hers.

Chuck stirred. He looked at her with a smile that was gathering strength. "Well...you know...Sarah, with the rich and mighty, always a little patience. Um, oh, yes, Sarah, yes. I accept. I will be your wife. Oh, uh, sorry, mind still scrambled a bit. Your _husband_. Mr. Sarah Walker. Oh, uh, well...that'll do." Sarah laughed through her tears. She was whole. She was home.

* * *

She had forgotten the Belgian.

Chuck saw him enter the room. Chuck's eyes rolled in his head slightly and the metal band opened, and the straps holding him fell away. He stood a bit shakily. Sarah had seen the look in his eyes before the flash of power and she spun to see the Belgian advancing toward them, his hands twisting in front of him as he spat out quiet words. His hands began to glow a yellow greenish-yellow.

A blast of power slammed into Sarah and surrounded her. Her senses were overwhelmed. It was like being dunked in virulent hatred, repulsive and emetic. She fought back against it, casting even as she drowned in the power of the Belgian's hatred. Chuck could see Sarah's pale blue, hard and diamond-like, burning inside the bile green of the Belgian and his casting. Sarah was powerful, more powerful now, Chuck realized instantly, than she had been before. Still, the Belgian was succeeding in squeezing her. The problem was that the last few days had exacted a cost from Sarah. She was tired. If they had been outside, under the moon, she might have been able not only to resist but to defeat the Belgian. But the contest was going against her. Chuck stepped decisively in front of her, into the blast of power, and was himself surrounded by it.

The hatred he felt was alien, not only because it was the Belgian's, but because Chuck was not a hater. Even so, Chuck allowed the hatred of the Belgian to suffuse him, to soak into him. The more of it the Belgian poured out, the more Chuck absorbed. After a few long, long seconds, the Belgian began to look panicky, unsure. No one had ever fought him by not fighting him before. Eventually, even the Belgian's hatred came to an end. Chuck seemed to be an abyss of reception. He could contain more than the Belgian could generate. A few more seconds passed, and the Belgian's legs buckled. He fell to his knees. Chuck walked to him and put his hand on the Belgian's head. The Belgian fell forward onto his hands. Then he fell prostrate.

Chuck turned to Sarah. "He won't be a problem anymore." Sarah's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide with shock and confusion.

"Oh, my God, Chuck, you killed him?" Sarah was genuinely frightened for Chuck.

"No, Sarah, I just...well, I took the fight out of him. When he comes to, he will still be himself, but without power. I have taken his power from him. He'll still be a bastard - unlike Jill, he had no desire to change - but he'll be a _Get off my lawn you freakin' kids!_ kind of bastard, not a _Try to take over the world!_ kind of bastard. We can leave him here to figure it out. Although I suspect his employees or enemies may have something to say about how it all turns out, that's between them."

Sarah's mind raced to process what Chuck had said. She giggled suddenly, only then realizing how funny Chuck's image was. She could see the Belgian with a water hose, shaking his fist impotently at children running gleefully and purposely through his yard.

"Come on, Sarah. We still have an apartment, a home, to finish getting in order."

Sarah looked pained, suddenly all-too self-aware. "Chuck, about that…"

Chuck smiled, looking exactly like he did on at the Nerd Herd desk the day she met him. "Tell me about it while we plan the wedding."

[Chuck took her hand, and they moved through the compound and were standing with Casey, and they moved again and were standing with Kamon, and they moved again and were at the Jeep]

Sarah looked at Chuck as he climbed into the jeep. He now had a deep pallor. What he had done was showing its effects. But his nose wasn't bleeding and he did not seem to have a headache. There was no physical pain in his eyes. He just looked exhausted and a touch haunted. "Chuck, are you ok?"

"Yes, Sarah. Or I will be. I just need to sleep. It was a lot to...take in." And with those words, he fell over onto her shoulder and began to snore softly. Sarah ran her fingers through his hair. What kind of man was this, her husband-to-be? A fresh thrill of wonder and desire ran through her. _My Chuck._ He was hers. But he was too big to be hers. Except that he was hers, because he had given himself to her, and held nothing back.

With a choking voice, she told Casey and Kamon the story. When she finished, no one spoke. The silence spoke for them, full of unguarded, ungrudging respect. Sarah rested her head on Chuck's and fell asleep too.

* * *

Casey looked at the two of them leaning on each other and smiled...inwardly. So far, this last mission had sure had its ups-and-downs, but he knew it was worth it. His mind ran ahead to home, to Wanda. He'd call her when he got back. That would be the first thing he would do. The second would be to see her and to kiss her soft lips. He'd been missing that hair-trigger smile.

He wanted to get Chuck and Sarah home, and himself home. 'Home'. A word that had been foreign to him, even as it held a place in his native language. Maybe it was time to recognize the word as the vital expressive resource that it was. His life had been for too long without the structuring principle of a home, of a place that marked the boundary between private and public, a place where lovers create space, breadth, and freedom for each other, a world within the world, sheltered, heart-warming. Casey had crisscrossed the planet but always as a stranger. He wanted to be able to go home, not just go...to the next place. He was starting to feel that way about Burbank. About Chuck and Sarah and Ellie and Devon. Morgan. And Wanda was making him feel it more.

* * *

Beckmann and her team of Casters teleported them home. They had said goodbye to Kamon. She and Sarah had sat and talked while waiting for the spell. Sarah found that she really liked her. That was happening to Sarah more and more. She was finding that there were good and interesting people all around her, people worth knowing. She had been trapped so long in her father's world of marks and gulls, and Graham's of fear and monsters, that she had never really looked at or listened to the people around her, not as people.

While Sarah talked with Kamon, she kept a careful watch on Chuck. He was napping in a cot, now awake, now asleep. She had felt the Belgian's awful casting. But she had not stood in it with the spigot wide open. Chuck had, and he had emptied the Belgian, outlasted his hatred. Even worse, she knew that Chuck was always soft-hearted and empathetic and that his power made him more so. How had he stood it? He mostly seemed ok, other than being exhausted, and that was completely understandable.

When they were safely back in Cave, Beckmann debriefed them. She listened to the story of Sarah's defeat of the cobra and Chuck's of the Belgian with shining eyes. For a moment, when Sarah finished telling the story, Beckmann's eyes had a speculative look in them, like she was weighing evidence, thinking something through.

"I will have to give all of this careful thought. Most careful thought. The world we have lived in is changing in fundamental ways. Chuck is unprecedented. I need to decide how much of this to share with the heads of the other Houses. With Graham. I already have reports that most of those we suspected to be The One Ring's agents have gone missing. The rats are abandoning the sinking ship. Poor Shaw has all-but come apart. After Sarah scared him to death, he needed his lighter even more. Without it, I am unsure he will live long. But we cannot return it to him. I have Seers considering his case, but I am not optimistic.

"Two moments in your story are of great importance. Orion has shown his hand. He is personally involved in what is happening, not just involved by rumor or by name. No one has heard from Carina, so I think it is safe to assume that she is still with him, helping him, I hope, although that is a team I never remotely imagined." Sarah and Casey smiled, as did Chuck. "Be that as it may, the other thing of great importance is Orion's comment about a 'final battle'. Orion does not think this is over, yet. Either The One Ring is a more complicated, deeper group than we knew, or it has been created or used by someone else. But for what? As a distraction? As something else? I admit I am flummoxed by this."

No one said anything. The flummoxing was general, everyone felt it. Beckmann continued, "We will just have to wait for someone to make a move, or for Orion or Carina to break radio silence."

* * *

Chuck and Sarah returned home. They showered together, washing away Thailand and potions and computer screens. They held each other under the warm water. Then they napped. Sarah woke in the slanting yellow sunlight of the afternoon. She had propped her pillow behind her and was sitting against it, holding her knees in her arms, pensive. Chuck watched her. He knew she was preparing herself to talk to him. He waited.

"Chuck, do you remember in Barstow, at the safe house, when I told you I was not of two minds about you? I want you to know, no, I need you to know...what I said was not only what I believed, it was true. Despite what happened. I know Beckmann talked to you last night about the potion Carina gave me. That potion had the effect of dividing me, but not because I was divided. It took the fact that I had been Enforcer Walker for so long and used it against me. But it used her fear of being so committed to you against me. She loves you as I love you. I have loved you since said you would be my baggage handler. A promise you have made good on ever since, by the way, my love...I loved you then but I did not have the emotional or...conceptual resources to understand what I felt as anything more than liking you. I've thought about that date a lot, Chuck. Remembering it is one of my favorite things to do."

She paused. He could tell how hard this was for her. But she was telling it to him. She had changed so much, he knew. And he was long-suffering. She was worth the wait. Always.

"I now realize I actually told you I loved you first, there in the restaurant. I know it doesn't count as that. I didn't say the words. I didn't know I meant them. But I did. I want you to know this because I want you to know that I don't process things like a normal girl. It takes longer with some things for me. The feelings are there but under so much restraint and denial and obliviousness...I didn't worry about committing to you. I did, almost immediately. By the time we left that roof together, I had proposed to you already. I was planning to be your wife. I just didn't understand myself or what I was feeling. My problem was not making the commitment, it was recognizing and accepting that I had made it. My problem wasn't being afraid to fall in love with you, I did that easy, one, two three...No, my problem was being afraid to admit it. I guess that's all backward, but it seems to be how I work, with you, at least. And I don't work with anyone else.

"Enforcer Walker kept insisting that I didn't love you and that you didn't love me. But she denied it because she knew it was true and she did not know how to accept it. She is not me, not all of me, Chuck, she never was. She is part of me and always will be. But that does not worry me, and should not worry you because I discovered for certain in a pit in Thailand that she does love you. Hear me, Charles Irving Bartowski: _I love you, with my whole heart. Sarah and Walker love you, and they are not two people, but one,_ me _._ "

Chuck sat up too. He took a minute and then he kissed her. "Sarah, let me tell you about where and how I found my power. Mueller could take everything from me...except what is everything to me." Chuck told her about his struggle to access his power. "You, in the white house with the red door. I found that and when I entered and held you, I knew my own power. You are key to me, Sarah, key to this power. I don't think I was meant to have it and not have you. You are bound to it somehow because I am bound to you.

"And I am sorry, Sarah. I should have known something was going on, that you would not have just left me like that, that the note was not the truth. Morgan was right. But I have been left so often, and it happened in the morning before I had even had a chance to wake up, and you were gone, and your suitcase too, and you are a miracle, and there was that suppression problem…"

Sarah put her finger gently on his lips, getting him to stop. "Shhh...Don't spiral, Chuck. It's ok. It was awful for both of us. Someone did it to us. I don't think it was the Belgian ultimately, given all that we know. But someone has a lot to answer for."

Chuck's phone beeped. He had a text from Ellie. "She's on her way over. She wants to see us with her own eyes and make sure we are ok."

* * *

Ellie came over and inspected them both. They passed whatever sister-cum-doctor test. Then she demanded the story. Beckmann had kept her updated on the search for Chuck and had told her when he had been found. Still, she knew no details of what happened. Sarah started with Casey showing up at her apartment after she left Chuck and ended with the decommissioning of the Belgian. Ellie knew the first part. But she held her breath through much of the rest of it, her fists white-knuckled as she heard about the cobra and Mueller and the Belgian. She cried quietly during the proposal. Afterwards, she hugged them both hard, hard even for Ellie.

"I need to share this, all of this, with Devon, guys, I can't lie to him." Ellie's eyes pleaded with them. Chuck turned to Sarah, who nodded _Yes_ with a small smile.

"Ok, sis. But make sure he knows to keep it secret. We're going to have to fill Morgan in on it too. He's already spinning ninja attacks and the little Casey told him into God knows what."

Ellie then grabbed Sarah's hand. "So, when? When will you two get married?"

Sarah turned to Chuck, and gazing into his eyes, said: "As soon as possible. Two weeks? Just a small wedding with our friends," Chuck nodded _Yes_ and Sarah turned back to Ellie, "and our family. Will you be my Maid of Honor, Ellie?"

"Yes, yes. I would be honored, Sarah. Now, come on. Let's go to my apartment and get down to the details."

* * *

Morgan accepted the story as Chuck and Sarah told it, with all it entailed, Casters, monsters, powers, as a matter of course. He was _excited_ , cheering his way through the battles and hissing at the bad guys. Morgan's reaction made it clear that he had always _suspected_ that the world was like this, more like a movie or a video game or a comic book, than other people knew or were willing to admit. He felt vindicated. And he found it no stretch at all to believe that Chuck and Sarah could both be heroes in the world he always suspected was real.

"I always told you, Chuck. Life is an adventure, man. You're either Allan Quatermain in your own life or you're half dead. What are the titles again, Reader and Enforcer? Cool. So. Damn. Cool! And, marriage, man! That's so great!"

Morgan wanted both to officiate at the wedding and to be best man, but Chuck explained that he couldn't be both. Morgan ended up deciding to officiate. He had gotten an online license a few years ago, one night after he and Chuck had eaten too many of Lou's sandwiches and Morgan was deep in his cups of grape soda. It's been a joke between them. But now it meant that Morgan could perform the ceremony. "I'll do a good job, Chuck. You two mean the world to me."

* * *

Sarah left Chuck to finish unpacking in the apartment (it was hard to believe they hadn't really yet begun to live there) and went to talk to Lou. After talking to Morgan, they had decided not to yet bring her into the whole story, but Sarah wanted her to be a bridesmaid if she was willing. Sarah showed up at about the time Lou was locking up.

"Oh, hey, Sarah. Your aunt, Becky?, called me to tell me you'd had to go out of town to see about your uncle. Is he ok? You are on the schedule for tomorrow, by the way."

"Yes, Lou, uncle John is fine. And I will be here. I came to tell you something and to ask a favor."

Lou stopped. "What is it, Sarah? Is everything ok?"

"Better than ok, Lou. Chuck and I are engaged. We are planning to get married in a couple of weeks, just a small ceremony, but I wanted you to be a bridesmaid."

Lou's face wore a wide grin. "Wow! That's great, Sarah. I knew you two wouldn't wait long. I've seen you together enough to know. Of course, I will do it."

"Oh, and Morgan is officiating."

"Really? Can he do that? That guy...full of surprises."

"How are you two, Lou? Morgan seems really happy."

"Me too, Sarah. I've never seen anyone change so much before, Sarah. Not up close. He's a boy in a way, and always will be. But he is also a man or becoming one. I don't want a man who loses contact with the boy, I've decided. Maybe that's what the nerd thing is really all about, at its best anyway, holding onto that boy, that capacity for fun, for wonder, for just being alive and being happy about that. For finding joy in little things and not being ashamed to be pleased by them, entertained by them. I don't know...I just know that I like him, I like him a lot...a lot more than I bargained for. Here's the thing, Sarah. If Morgan Grimes loves you, it's not halfway. Does he embarrass me once in a while? Yes. Do I care? Not very much. Because he also makes me proud too, almost all the time."

"So are we going to start serving the Morgan Grimes here, now?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm planning to make that...sandwich for him soon, and only for him, and at home."

They shared a significant look and both broke into slightly self-conscious smiles. Then a devilish gleam lit Lou's eyes.

"Extra mayo."

Sarah joined in Lou's joyful laughter. "Too. Much. Information."

* * *

Casey got to Wanda's apartment. He'd been tied up at Cave, helping Beckmann with the plan to mop up the mess of The One Ring. Then, Wanda had to work. They were both finally free to see each other.

Casey had never felt like this. He had not only wanted to get home after the mission. He wanted to get home during the mission. Even stranger, in his experience, he had kept thinking of home while on the mission. And thinking of home meant thinking of her, of Wanda.

She answered the door wearing a large, loose yellow sweater and grey yoga pants. Her hair was swept back and held by a rubber band. She had told him she was going to cook for them. Casey had a bottle of wine in his hand. He felt his pulse pick up and his throat grow a little thick. She hesitated a beat; she could tell he wanted to say something. "Good to see you. Really. Good to see you."

She stepped forward, but not to take the bottle. She put her arms up around Casey's neck and drew him in for a very amorous kiss. When she broke it, she put one hand around Casey's jaw. "I've been thinking about that chiseled, Michelangelo jaw ever since you left on that business trip. It's just as...effective...as I remembered." She kissed him again quickly and then took the wine. "Come in, Casey."

She moved beautifully, Casey noticed. She had been a dancer before her work at the gym. It still showed. She had a grace that spoke to Casey. For all his strength and power, for all his mastery of fighting skills, Casey thought of himself as a plodder, graceless. Just watching her as she moved around the table in her small kitchen, straightening the utensils, lighting the candles, opening the wine - just watching her made him glad to be home. He took a deep breath, maybe the deepest he had taken since he enlisted in the Marines long ago. He exhaled slowly, feeling his own heartbeat. Maybe this was what it was like to be completely alive?

* * *

End of Book Two: The One Ring

A/N: "You're either Allan Quatermain in your own life or you're half dead." Morgan Grimes

Intermission Music: "Down in the Cockpit", XTC


	14. Chapter 14: Glimmerings

A/N: And so begins the final book of CvBC, _Book Three: House Bartowski?_ Thanks so much for sticking around.

Thanks, thanks and thanks for the reviews and PMs.

I haven't yet decided how I am dividing up the material, but Book Three will be at least two more chapters, maybe three or four. This chapter is short, an intro, if you will, to the Book.

Still don't own _Chuck_.

* * *

 **Book Three: House Bartowski?**

CHAPTER 14 Glimmerings

The next day, Chuck was in Cave, talking to Beckmann and to Sarah. Beckmann had given the two of them a little time but now wanted to talk more about Thailand and what happened there. Casey was in Cave, but not with them at the central table. He was tending to items in the armory.

Beckmann asked Chuck about what had happened in the encounter with the Belgian.

"I could tell that the Belgian was incredibly powerful. Sarah is too, more powerful than before, now, but she was tired, almost exhausted. I couldn't let anything happen to her, so I stepped into the spell. I could feel his hate, deep and oily and awful, and I just let it wash over me, go through me, and I...released it. I didn't hate his hate back. I just let it be. And it wasted itself. I don't know anything more to say, really. Except that my power is still exhausted. I don't think it is permanently gone, I know it isn't, but I can't do that sort of thing...often."

"But you didn't have a headache afterward, did you?" Sarah asked.

"No, I think the headaches, and the nosebleeds, were mostly the result of my inability to control my power, and partly my body adjusting to the use of it. After my...uh...epiphany under Mueller's spell machine, I no longer experienced my power as alien to me, as something that was mine and not mine. It was just mine."

"And you, Sarah, your increase in power, how do you understand that?" Beckmann turned to Sarah as she spoke, looking at her with both curiosity and kindness.

"A change in me, I guess. I have always felt deadened or distracted or divided, like some part of me was unresponsive to, inattentive to, or just dead set against doing what I was doing or owning what I was doing. I had a moment, looking for Chuck, when I felt that interior...disjointedness finally fall away. I knew what I wanted, what _I wanted_ , and with no internal reluctance or refusal. And it changed my power."

Beckmann was about to ask more when Casey entered. All three at the table looked up. Casey's face was flushed, his look strange. "I just checked his cell. Shaw's dead."

"How can that be, Casey?" Beckmann asked, standing up and moving to go down the passageway.

Casey gently reached out for her arm to stop her. "You don't want to see it. He did it to himself. He hung himself with his bedclothes."

* * *

Why Shaw had done it was a mystery. And it did seem that he had. There was no evidence to suggest that someone, anyone, had gotten to him. He had killed himself.

He had been increasingly erratic since his showdown in his cell with Sarah. Whatever descent he had been in that ended with him hanging from a light fixture in his cell, it had picked up speed then, but he had already been falling. Chuck saw it in his eyes when Shaw had interrogated him, after Jill had taken him and Sarah captive.

After the showdown with Sarah, Shaw had been uncommunicative, had stopped eating much, had been very unsettled. Beckmann had noticed. Casey noticed after returning from Thailand. But both had thought it the result of his incarceration, his giving up of the Belgian, the failure of The One Ring. Neither Beckmann nor Casey thought him a suicide risk. If nothing else, they knew of his long obsession with finding his wife's killer, and they did not think he would give up on that quest.

No one had liked Shaw, in fact, everyone had disliked him, but no one wanted this end for him. After the body had been taken down and taken away, they found a spot on the wall of the cell where Shaw had left what counted perhaps as a suicide note. He had scratched 'Evelyn' into the wall.

* * *

This was the one dark spot on an otherwise very bright time for Chuck and Sarah, their family and friends, and Beckmann's House. Chuck was busy, but he tried to pay close attention to what was happening each day. It was too important, it meant too much, to let it slip past him like a quick succession of busy nothings. The big day was the big day, sure. But that didn't mean that the days leading up to it were little, to be forgotten or rushed. In a good life, every day is at least a sort of big day.

Beckmann was overjoyed about the wedding, even seemed to think she deserved some credit for helping things along. Chuck and Sarah knew she was right about that. Ellie and Sarah used up almost all of Ellie's free time, planning the wedding. Beckmann's House had asked to pay for it, as a bonus to them for dismantling The One Ring. Her Casters would do the decorations, the cake, the music, the reception. It was going to be held at a small chapel not far from their apartment.

Plans were in place, and the day was approaching. One week to go. One week. Chuck was amazed by it all. Sarah and Ellie were finalizing everything with the wedding dress. He had ordered his tux. Morgan was furiously writing and rewriting the ceremony. Later in the day, Chuck and Sarah were going to buy rings.

* * *

Sarah walked through the door of the jewelers. Chuck held the door for her, and she smirked at him - she was willing to give him these little things once in a while. He really did do them out of respect, not any notion that she was weak or needed to be babied.

The jeweler's shop was not part of a chain. Beckmann had suggested the place. It was out of town but she told them it would be worth it. Sarah had been teasing Chuck mercilessly about what sort of engagement ring he wanted - since, after all, he had accepted her proposal and agreed to be her wife. Chuck pointed out each time that his mind had been almost sucked from his head, and that he should maybe get a pass for that mistaken response. And of course Sarah agreed. It was just too much fun to let it go too soon.

"So, Chuck, do you know what you want? Maybe a tiny solitaire with a prong setting. Delicate, like you? Yellow gold, to bring out the amber and topaz highlights in your eyes…?"

Chuck sighed in mock-defeat. He held out his arm to her, his hand hanging down limply from his wrist. He looked at her from beneath batting eyelashes. (Oh, those eyelashes! She felt something in her lower abdomen tighten gently.) "I suppose if it is going to go this way," his voice slid into an exaggerated Scarlett O'Hara silky southern, "then you ought to get down on one knee and do this right." He drew out the last word as if it had three or four syllables.

By the time, the elderly man working behind the counter had finished with the other customer in the store and reached them. He had overheard the exchange and now he was watching with merry curiosity. Sarah noticed the man, and she knew Chuck had too. Chuck had cleverly painted her into a corner, but with her help. She wanted to keep the joke going, but was she going to get down on one knee and make a formal proposal? And what was Chuck prepared to do in response to it? Sarah was happy she had proposed, and she had been enjoying the joke, but...

But Chuck turned to the man and let her off the hook with a wink. He asked the man to see engagements rings in white gold and wedding rings in the same. Sarah shook off her bemusement and joined Chuck at the counter. "White gold, Chuck?" Sarah knew she liked it, but Chuck had never talked of gold for himself, white or otherwise.

"Ah, yeah, I was hoping you might like it. I thought you did. You mentioned it once when we were window-shopping after dinner. But, I also kinda like it because of, you know, Thomas Covenant."

"Who?"

"It's a book, a series of books, actually. _The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever_. Covenant is a resident of our world, kind of a miserable son of a bitch, who is suffering horribly, suffering from divorce and from leprosy. He gets translated into a new world, The Land, where his leprosy heals but his psychological damage remains.

"He has power in that world, keyed to his white gold wedding band, which he refuses to take off. I know it sounds weird, but the character struck a deep chord with me as a boy. He fights to learn how to control his power, it is a wild magic, capable of undoing the world, and he starts using it to _shave_ , 'shaving with the white gold', he calls it. Later, that line became a mantra for me, a way of trying to force myself to overcome the loss of my parents, to face the unknown, to embrace the deep mysteries of life, the things that make life worth living, instead of denying them or running from them.

"I think I lost my hold on that mantra for quite a few years after Jill. I let myself suffer but with no attempt to take command of that suffering, to assimilate it into something good. I made no attempt to take control of myself, my potential. Until you.

"In my life, Sarah, you are the white gold ring, the wild magic, and living with you is - pardon the phrase, but I hope you know what I mean, and that I mean it in the _best possible way_ \- living with you, Sarah, is _shaving with the white gold_. I never want to forget that."

"Then white gold it is," Sarah managed through tears.

* * *

They chose a simple, modest white gold engagement ring with a beautifully cut small diamond. Sarah thought the diamond shone with a light all its own. Their wedding rings matched it, plain bands of white gold. The jeweler waved their money away when they tried to pay. Beckmann had told the man that she would personally pay for the rings. Chuck explained that he was at least going to pay for the engagement ring. He had sold his guitar (it just sat around in his bedroom these days, and he had never been good at playing it) and several of his prized, collectible comics so that he could afford to buy Sarah's engagement ring. The jeweler accepted the compromise, and Chuck paid for the ring.

Sarah's phone buzzed. "Beckmann. She wants us right away."

"To Cave it is," Chuck responded.

"No, she wants us to meet her at the the Shop." They exchanged looks of surprise.

* * *

Chuck pulled the old Toyota off the road and into a parking lot. Sarah, who had been lost in daydreams while staring at her engagement ring, looked up in surprise.

"Chuck, where are we? Beckmann's text sounded urgent."

"Well, Sarah, we are stopping because there is something I need to do and I am not going to miss my chance. C'mon." He jumped from the car.

They were in the parking lot of a beach. Chuck walked determinedly out onto the beach, into the sand. Sarah followed, perplexed. When Chuck reached a spot on the beach that suited him, he turned and waited for her to reach him. And then he went down on one knee. Sarah's heart leaped. He took her hand and, with beautiful care, he removed her engagement ring. Then he held it up to her. The sunlight danced on it as it was dancing on the water behind Chuck. Sarah was surrounded by glimmerings. She felt her insides take wing, monarchs, a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Chuck's eyes were exultant and full of promises, of promises kept and promises to be kept.

"Sarah Walker, you are my life. Do you take me as the father of your children?"

She laughed warmly, recognizing the vow. "I do, Chuck."

"And do you take me as your husband?"

"I do, Chuck."

And will you marry me?"

I will, Chuck, yes!"

With the same beautiful care, Chuck replaced the ring on her finger. Sarah knelt in front of Chuck and swept him into her arms, kissing him with exhilarated kisses. She had proposed to him already. He proposed to her in reverse. But that was her, that was them. They were always somehow farther along in their relationship than they were. They were not a normal couple. But they were the couple each wanted most to be.

After a few minutes, they got up and left the beach hand in ringed hand.

* * *

Chuck called out as he the counter of the shop, as he first had weeks ago. In a moment or two, Beckmann opened the door and stuck out her head. She looked relieved when she saw Chuck and Sarah.

"Good. Come in, quickly. The situation is fluid and complicated."

Chuck stepped through the door. Neither he nor Sarah had ever been through that door. Neither had entered Beckmann's inner sanctum.

"It's like the Tardis!" Chuck exclaimed, turning a slow circle in wonderment. What he had taken to be a small room or two at best, was the foyer to a massive space.

"The Tardis?" Then Sarah dimly remembered the Dr. Who episodes she and Chuck had watched one night, as part of her increasingly eager education in popular culture. "It's like a phone booth?"

"No, its bigger on the inside than the outside, way, way bigger."

There were people everywhere, almost all in motion. Some were at computer terminals. Others were involved in Communication with 3-D images of distant Casters. Still others were staring into crystal balls. Most everyone was really, really good-looking. _Beautiful creatures_. There were stairs, going up to another level where still more people were busy poring over ancient tomes, mixing items for spells. Hallways lead toward more distant spots, identified by signs: _Spell Casting Rooms 1-4, Dojo, Infirmary, Apothecary,_ and so on.

Even Sarah seemed impressed. Casey walked up to them. He was obviously proud of all they were taking in. "Welcome to the nerve center of House Beckmann. Yes, impressive. But we don't have time to gawk. Someone has shown up - unexpectedly." Casey's alert eyes saw the ring on Sarah's finger, and he smiled at her, and punched Chuck hard on the shoulder, grinning.

"About damn time. But I thought she would buy one for you." Sarah hid a smile behind her hand.

Beckmann stopped to talk to a young Caster who presented her with a file. "Go ahead with Casey. I will join you in a moment."

Casey led them down the central hallway. They went through a large, heavy wooden door at the end, only to find themselves at the near end of a long table. At the far end sat Carina, her hair a mess and her clothes dirty. Beside her stood a unprepossessing, balding man, wearing glasses. He too looked worse for wear, his clothes torn in places and his hands covered with dirt and ink. Casey turned back to Chuck and Sarah as he led the way to the other end of the table. "This is Orion. This hot mess, as you know, is Carina."

* * *

Orion stepped toward Chuck and Sarah and extended his grimy hand. Chuck shook it and then Sarah. "Orion is not my real name, obviously. My real name is Howard Busgang. I am so pleased to finally meet you both face to face. You two have no idea how often I have looked forward to today. I just wish the circumstances were less...dire."

Sarah turned to look at Carina, who had so far mostly kept her gaze trained on the floor. Sarah could not recall ever seeing Carina look so upset, so deeply...ashamed. Sarah knew then that Casey's suspicion was correct; Carina had dosed Sarah ignorantly or unwillingly. Chuck in that moment walked to Carina and extended his hand to her, palm up. She looked at him - a question. He grinned and shrugged, and she took his hand and and stood. He pulled her into a hug, and Carina's features relaxed. She smiled at Sarah over Chuck's shoulder and mouthed _I'm sorry_. Sarah gave her the smirk that she so often gave Carina, the _How can I help but forgive you?_ smirk and they shared a familiar glance: _later_.

Orion waited for everyone to sit and for Beckmann to join them. She sat last. She gestured for Orion to begin.

* * *

A/N: _The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant_ were written by Stephen Donaldson. I was lucky enough to interview him once for my college newspaper. A good guy.


	15. Chapter 15: Revelations

A/N: Into every fantasy-type story a lore-sharing chapter must fall...

Thanks to all you readers out there. If you've been reading but haven't reviewed, please let me know that you are around. Hit that 'Review' button.

Don't know how the weather is where you are, but here it is getting cooler, finally, a nip in the air this morning. Lovely. Hope it is lovely where you are.

 _Chuck_ ain't mine...

* * *

CHAPTER 15 Revelations

"We are all here, ultimately, because of two men. Chuck, here...and Langston Graham." Chuck heard Sarah gasp, Casey grunt and Beckmann curse all at the same time.

Orion then looked at Sarah and added: "Well, two men and _one woman_. Sarah is just as crucial a part of this story. But her part in it begins later, in a sense. Of course, sometimes later is earlier and earlier later, depending on where you are standing - and whether you take seriously that time can be likened to space..." Carina shot Orion a look and he focused again. "Ah, yes, ah...most of those close to Graham know that he is a Seer, with a minor prophetic power. What almost no one knows is that Graham long ago foresaw that a mortal would become a Reader, and that that Reader would fall in love with a Caster of unprecedented power, and that together they would change the future of Casting."

The room was all attention. "Graham covets power in a way that few Casters ever have. The story I have to tell you is largely driven by that covetousness. But to tell you about that, I have to start somewhere else. Somewhere closer to home. And the story is a sad one. I am sorry to have to tell it, but I must."

Orion looked at Carina. She smiled grimly at him. Chuck realized that there was clearly a bond between them, not romantic but real. Carina liked and admired the man, and he her.

"Many years ago, I worked for the CIA as a computer engineer and programmer. I was stationed here, at a secret lab in LA. My research partner and my best friend was your father, Chuck, Stephen Bartowski.

"We were young men then, full of dreams for what computing might become, how it might be used to keep the country - and more importantly, innocent people - safe. I was a Caster, but Stephen did not know that, not then, not at the beginning. However, Stephen somehow got convinced that magic was real and that there were people who had magical powers. I don't know what convinced him; he was brilliant; maybe he just reasoned his way to the conclusion. But he began to put in extra hours in the lab. He was convinced that magic was itself a technology, just one of a different kind than the technology he and I were working on. It was the only thing we disagreed on, and I believed he was wrong about it and he came to think so too... Anyway, he believed that computers and spells could be mixed, united. He was right about that, it turns out. I watched the work over his shoulder and started volunteering to help him. He was dogged, but of course, he had no access to magic, and so his work was entirely theoretical."

"You know," Chuck broke in, his voice in the present but his mind in the past, "when I was a kid we would read books together, sci-fi and fantasy, and he would always tell me that technology was magic and magic technology. We read my favorites together, "Automatic Tiger", _The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant_ ," Chuck glanced at Sarah, " _The Lord of the Rings_ , _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ , _The Gormenghast Trilogy_...He would always tell me - 'It's all one world, Chuck. One world is enough; this world is inexhaustible.'"

Orion smiled, himself momentarily whisked to the past too. "Yes, Chuck, that was your dad...As you can guess, I eventually decided to reveal my power to him. And we began to work in earnest. We began to make progress mixing computing and Casting. They were not the same but they could...contact each other. Your father was particularly interested in powers and how they worked. Stephen made tremendous progress with a program we designed that was intended to act as a repository of information and power, but a repository that could be used to...move...or...transfer the information or powers to another person.

"We called it _The Convergence_. I know, I know...a completely stupid name. We did not realize it, but rumors of our work had begun to circulate in the CIA and among the Houses, but most particularly in Graham's House. He had a Caster friend who held a high position in the Agency and that friend had heard the whispers and shared them."

Orion paused and swallowed hard. Clearly, he dreaded the next part of his story. "The rumors circulating at the Agency caused the Director to assign a handler to Stephen. No one bothered with me. Most people thought I was just his buddy and helpmate, sort of Gilligan to his Skipper, and not in any way involved in the real work. I wanted it that way. And it was importantly true. Stephen was the primary creator of _The Convergence_. I began to work on another project; I will get back to that later.

"Anyway, the handler was your mother, Chuck, Mary. I don't know what her last name was - at least not until later when it became Bartowski. She was a remarkable woman, and...I fell in love with her right away. But, unfortunately for me, she fell in love with your father almost as quickly. We eventually shared our work with her, told her about powers generally, and my powers.

"At around this time, Graham contacted me. He began to ply me for information on our work. When he realized that I envied Stephen for having Mary, he used that against me and against Stephen. He got me to tell him about _The Convergence_. Graham wanted it the moment I told him. I should have feared the gleam in his eyes. But my eyes were green with envy, and I didn't react as I should have.

"But one thing about Graham: he is patient. He knew that _The Convergence_ was at best a prototype and that it needed more time and development. He left me alone after that, and I eventually accepted that Mary loved Stephen. I became happy for them. I should have told them about what I told Graham. But I was ashamed and I thought...hoped...nothing would come of it.

"You see, I was busy with a project of my own, as I mentioned, one I kept secret from everyone, including Stephen and Mary. I am, I am...older than I look. I already had a history with _The Intersect_ and I was still tied to it. It never chose me as a Reader, but it would...come to me from time to time. The book has a mind of its own. Really. Eventually, I realized that the book was seeking my help. It had been altered in some way, and the book...wanted to be restored to its original condition. I had made progress doing that in times past, and this time when it came to me, I thought I could finish the task. I realized that the book had never been intended to choose only Casters, but to choose someone, mortal or Caster, who could be trusted with the power the book gave. I was working to restore the book. - By the way, I also wrote _The Skeleton Key_ around that time, but I...lost it. I sometimes...misplace even important things. Beckmann told me. Graham must have found it. It would have done him no good, he could not read it, only a Reader (or I) could. But he found a way to use it against you. I am sorry about that. Anyway...

"Stephen and Mary got married. She left the CIA because she wanted to raise a family. Stephen and I continued our work on _The Convergence_. Of course, the CIA understood our work as purely technological, and we did make technological breakthroughs as we worked toward a functioning _Convergence_. Those breakthroughs were more than enough keep the CIA satisfied.

"Things went on like that for several years. I finished the book and it vanished again. First Ellie and then Chuck was born. Progress in the lab was slow for me and Stephen. The work was hard and we had other projects that the CIA assigned us. Sometimes _The Convergence_ project was stalled for months. But finally, we were getting close.

"Early tests on our new prototype were promising. That is when I realized that Graham was still keeping tabs on the project. That spooked me. So, I started keeping tabs on Graham (I have now been doing that for years, other than _The Intersect,_ Graham has been my primary task). I learned that he was planning an assault on the CIA lab, to take _The Convergence_ and to take Stephen. I went to Mary and confessed what I had done, and I told her what I had learned.

"She immediately reverted to an agent again. She and Stephen and I gathered up everything connected to _The Convergence_ , hardware and software, notes, everything. We managed, by stealth and magic, to get it out of the lab took it all to a cabin in the woods, one Stephen owned but that Mary had set up to be untraceable. We bunkered down and got back to work, even as a CIA manhunt and a hunt by Graham's private army of Enforcers searched for us. We were hoping to find a way to use _The Convergence_ against Graham, although we weren't sure how to do it exactly.

"But Dad and Mom, they left us behind?" Chuck asked, his voice breaking slightly. "They took _The Convergence_ but left us?"

"They did not leave you, exactly, Chuck. Mary had CIA friends she trusted and I had Casters I did. I had my powers. No one, except _perhaps_ the Belgian, was a match for me then. Other than Graham, no one but Sarah is now. But I have the advantage of knowing more, having lived longer. The mythology about me among Casters is partly that, mythology, but I do have power, real power." There was something about the small man's tone that was absolutely convincing.

"We knew how capable Ellie was, how resilient you both were. It was unfair and awful, and I have no defense of us now, but then we all hoped it would be brief. But we thought you were both safest if you were apparently on your own, if everyone believed (because you both believed) you had been abandoned. We made sure no harm came to you, and that you were able to live in safety and relative comfort and keep free of Child Services, but we kept from any direct contact. I don't think I have ever seen anyone more miserable and more controlled about it than your mom was during that time. And she had to hold your father together on top of everything else. He was inconsolable.

"I thought we had escaped Graham. I thought that once _The Convergence_ was ready, we could find a way to defeat him. I was wrong. He found us. He hit us with all the resources he had been stockpiling over the years. Even with my powers and Mary's formidable skills, we three could not resist all the Casters - and other things - Graham sent against us in that cabin.

"It was a sneak attack, carefully planned. I was blown from the scene early by a massive volley of power. It must have been the work of many combined Casters, and they must have thought it atomized me. The plan was to kill me with that all-important first Casting. I was unconscious for hours, I guess. When I finally came to in the deep brush, badly battered and with my collarbone broken and one forearm shattered, I struggled back to the smoking ruins of the cabin. Stephen and Mary were dead; I found their remains. Everything connected to _The Convergence_ was gone. It had been taken and everything left was set ablaze."

"Everything?" Chuck asked, his voice hushed.

"Yes, Chuck..everything." Orion had tears on his face. His complexion had turned ashen.

Sarah moved her chair closer to Chuck's and put her arm around him. "I guess I always suspected they were dead. I could believe that they left. But I couldn't believe they could still be alive and make no contact for all these years." Chuck said this softly but everyone heard it.

"Ah…" Orion wiped his eyes. "Let me move now more quickly to where we find ourselves. I don't mean to be insensitive.

"Graham has thought me dead since that day. I have been careful to circulate and encourage the rumors that I am dead. But I have never felt that I was in a position to attack Graham directly. It took me a long time to heal, having to do it in secret. He had time to entrench himself. He had too many Enforcers, too many resources. And I am no assassin. I have worked against him constantly in small ways, frustrating his plans, but always from the shadows.

"Graham is on the move now. He has been working on _The Convergence_ \- or more accurately - a team of dark Seers has been working on it for him. It is now operational, and I fear Graham has operated it. He has used it to siphon all the data from the databases of the CIA and NSA. But he also has used it to collect powers from Casters, light and dark. And he has uploaded it all into himself. Graham now is _The Convergence_. What Chuck did to The Belgian pushed up Graham's timeline. Carina and I have been able to find out in general what he is planning. He is planning an attack, here, in LA, to attack you at your wedding but before your vows. I believe our only choice is to attack him first. I have a new spell, one that Carina and I have used, that will get us into his base of operations."

A silence ensued. The only sound was Beckmann grinding her teeth in seething anger. "Let's take a break for a few minutes. I know what we have heard is unpleasant." She looked kindly at Chuck and shared a small smile with him.

Sarah stood up when Chuck did and put her arms around him. He leaned into her for a few seconds, then leaned back and gave her a quick, weak grin. "I'm glad I know. It's sad, and I will be sad for a while, and so will Ellie, but I would rather know this than know nothing. They made choices I would not make, but they made them for my sake and for Ellie's."

* * *

A few minutes later, Carina gently grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her out of Beckmann's 'quarters' and out of The Curiosity Shop. She stopped when they both stood on the sidewalk outside the Shop's window.

Carina glanced at Sarah guiltily. Sarah waited for her to speak.

"Sarah, I screwed up, I screwed up bad. Graham called me into his office at the House. Bryce was there. Together they told me a story - about you and about Chuck. Long briefing short, they told me he had you under a spell or that someone he was working with had you under a spell, and that the spell had proven too strong for them to break from the distance. They sent me in with the potion. They told me it was a cure.

"I didn't exactly believe them, but I didn't exactly _not_ believe them. I had to see for myself. And then when I saw you, looking and acting so different than when we last saw each other, I started to believe them. Chuck seemed too good...to be true. But - and I am sorrier about this in a way than everything else - I just couldn't believe you were _happy_. I could see it. It radiated off of you. I could feel it. But I have never believed in happiness, Sarah." Sarah nodded sympathetically, again waiting for Carina to continue.

"And since I didn't believe in it, I couldn't believe yours was real. It _had_ to be a spell. I always preferred angst over fluff, Sarah, because I thought angst was real, and fluff fake. I thought that preference made me hard-headed, tough-hearted, realistic, brave. But it was really...a soft-headed, tender-hearted cynicism, a failure to want the right things out of life, out of myself. I was coddling myself and accepting less than the best from myself. I became a coward. I read my screwed up life into yours, Sarah, and screwed with yours as a result. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course I can, Carina. I already have. Casey didn't really have to convince me that there was an explanation for what you did. I already believed that. And I knew it when I saw you a little while ago. But where is all this coming from, Carina? I mean, self-examination has not been your, ah...meter, exactly."

Carina smiled a small, bitter smile. "I know. But try spending time with Orion. He doesn't sound like he's making sense, but then all of a sudden, he does, and he turns your world on its damn ear. I feel like I've been spending time with a mashup of Merlin and Socrates. I never thought that just getting to know someone could itself _be_ an education."

Sarah smiled warmly at Carina and drew her into a hug of the sort Sarah had learned from Ellie. As she squeezed Carina she said, "I know something about that kind of thing, Carina, and how much harder and how much better it makes your life to change the way you see it. I love you, Carina."

"I...love you too, Sarah. Thanks for not believing the worst of me. I did enough of that for both of us."

* * *

When they reconvened, Orion turned to Beckmann and then the rest of the group. "Oh! I forgot. I should tell you. I know what happened to Shaw. I had information and then when Beckmann told me about his suicide, I could put it all together."

Orion went on in a low tone. "As you know, Shaw was working for the Belgian. But what you don't know is that the Belgian recruited Shaw before Shaw's wife died, shortly before it. When she died, Shaw became obsessed with finding her killer. Shaw was obsessive to begin with, brittle and self-righteous, and that is part of why he joined with the Belgian. He thought no one else capable of being the sort of pure, emotionally controlled Enforcer he took himself to be. The Belgian played on that feeling of superiority. As a sign of his favor toward Shaw, he gave Shaw a lighter." Orion scanned the room and everyone seemed familiar with this fact.

"The lighter contained an evil artifact, and the Belgian used it to delude Shaw, to force him to kill his own wife. She was a good woman, and the Belgian worried that she might be able to influence Shaw in the wrong direction. The artifact kept the memory of what Shaw had done hidden from Shaw. So, it turns out that, all this time, Shaw had been obsessively hunting for himself. When you took the lighter from him, he began slowly to suspect himself. The longer he was parted from it, the clearer and more compelling the suspicion became. In the end, he knew he did it. And so he finished his quest, his obsession: he took revenge on his wife's killer. That is the sad story of Daniel Shaw."

"I don't mean to sound heartless," Sarah said quietly, "but I wonder about Evelyn. What did she see in him? I just don't know how anyone could find him attractive." No one could offer an explanation. They all sat in prolonged seconds of wordless puzzlement.

* * *

"Where is Graham's base, Orion?" Beckmann cut in, utterly focused and back on task.

"Graham has a secret complex of caves beneath an abandoned WWII base in Virginia, Pungo Naval Outer Landing Field. He also uses a few of the old buildings. Luckily for us, Graham has stretched his forces thin. After he kills Chuck and Sarah, he plans...well, he plans to take over, to take over Casters and eventually the country. He is very sure of himself. Right now, he has a few Enforcers with him, and he has The Gobbler with him. But mostly he has Seers with him. He believes that he and The Gobbler are enough to destroy any attack."

"The Gobbler? I thought he was just a Caster bedtime story, the Bogeyman for little Casters. You mean he exists?" Sarah was incredulous.

"Yes, he exists, I am sorry to say, I always suspected that he did, although I only came to know that for sure recently, when I saved Carina from Graham's Pungo dungeon. The Gobbler would come to Carina's cell to...look at her, whetting his appetite."

Chuck, who was clearly still trying to process the earlier things he had been told, began now to catch up. "So, who or what is The Gobbler? Wait, he was going to _eat_ Carina?"

Carina laughed but she visibly shuddered as she did so.

"He is a very ancient Caster, maybe the oldest now living, who achieved his long life and great power by dark Casting on himself, effectively turning himself into a monster, a massive, twisted, ravenous thing that can only stay alive on a diet of living human flesh." Orion gagged a bit as he spoke.

"Yeah, he eats people alive," Casey clarified. "At least, that is how the stories go. But he cannot stand exposure to the sun. He can only exist in darkness and shadow."

Carina broke in. "After Orion rescued me, I realized that The Gobbler had been staring at me in the dark of the dungeon. We figure Graham promised me to him."

"How did you end up there, anyway, Carina?" Sarah asked.

"Bryce and a group of Casters attacked me at my hotel after I left your apartment. They overpowered me. I woke up in the dungeon. It is deep below Pungo."

"What do you recommend, Orion?" Beckmann looked at him hungrily, like she knew the answer to her question but was just waiting for him to voice it.

"I say we take the fight to Graham. I say we go to Pungo and force the bastards out of their hole."

"My thought exactly," Beckmann commented, her lips in a grim line. "But how does Sarah fit into all this. She is the Caster in the prophecy?"

"Oh, yes. She is. Let me explain." He looked at Sarah as he continued.

"All of those missions you ran for Graham, Sarah, missions on which you took prisoners, Casters or creations of Casters, - Graham used those missions to feed data and power into _The Convergence_. You were doing good, but Graham was moving behind you doing evil. The prisoners rarely survived the process, the ones that lived would have been better off dead. The technological magic Mueller used on Chuck was an early form of _The Convergence_. Chuck is the only person exposed to that early version of _The Convergence_ who has both stayed sane and lived. I knew he could survive it."

"Wait. So you are saying that Graham was using me? All this time? I was the tip of the spear for an evil madman?" Sarah's face was white.

"Yes, but it is worse than that. Graham started trying to fill in his prophecy. He knew _that_ certain things were going to happen unless he stopped them, but he did not know _who_ would do them. He did not know Chuck would be the Reader or that you would be the Caster. At least he didn't at first. But then he found an ancient manuscript that provided details. The manuscript was in bad shape, fragmented and incomplete, sort of like the poetic remains of Sappho," Orion scanned the room but no one seemed interested just then in the remains of Sappho, "but it gave him enough information to make an educated guess that the woman who was his becoming his prized Enforcer was also one half of the biggest of all dangers to his plans. So he began to manipulate you. He separated you from your parents, particularly your mother - a lovely woman, by the way - " Sarah looked at Orion in shock, "and from friends. He particularly wanted to keep you distanced from and indifferent to the mortal world, so that the chances of you meeting any mortal man who could attract you was as low as possible. But mostly he tried to just keep you so busy that you could never really understand your own heart, your own powers. And, frankly, he chose the worst, the deadliest missions of all for you, thinking that you would either eventually be dark or dead. Either one would have...satisfied him."

Sarah's sat in stunned silence. She had thought her life as an Enforcer was a collection of lies, but the life itself a lie, the whole thing, a lie told by Graham and one she embraced for years? It was a shock. She felt like she would scream or sob or get sick, or all three. _All those lies held together in one bigger, uglier lie._

"Luckily, I found another, better-preserved copy of the same ancient manuscript. I had more information than Graham and it allowed me to get ahead of him. I had more faith in you than Graham. I knew you would not become dark. I worried about your safety, but I had to trust to your skills and to your heart. For the prophecy to be fulfilled, you had to find Chuck. Graham wanted to prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy; I was not going to try to force its fulfillment. I had to run the risk, and worse, let you run the risk."

Casey spoke. He knew both Chuck and Sarah were processing, struggling with all of this. "But why the hell would Graham do this?" He motioned to Chuck and Sarah. "Put these two together? He had to figure Chuck was the mortal Reader prophesied. Makes no damn sense."

"Thank God for the hubris of evil, Casey. I do every day. Graham really believed that he manipulated Sarah to a point where love for her would be impossible. He thought he could control her and through her Chuck. I believe he fell in love with the idea that he would eventually be able to get Sarah to kill Chuck, effectively ending any threat against himself in an act of _evil poetry_. He...ah...overestimated his effectiveness.

"He knew he had early on, but by then he was committed. He had to play it out. He used The Belgian and Shaw and The One Ring as a smokescreen. He'd been doing that for years anyway. The Belgian was a tool for Graham, a way of redirecting everyone's attention while he finished _The Convergence_. Graham's hubris even led him to give The Belgian's organization the name: _The One Ring_. It was a dark joke he liked. It was his way of declaring war on the possibility that a Caster and a mortal Reader, that Chuck and Sarah, would marry."

"Wait. You mean it wasn't just a lame _Lord of the Rings_ reference?" Chuck asked in disbelief.

"No," Orion chuckled through a frown. "it wasn't a _Rings_ reference at all. Graham understood the fragments of the ancient manuscript to refer to a wedding ring. But, again, I had fuller fragments and better judgment. The ring is an engagement ring. So the first order of business for us, since there is little doubt Graham has mobilized, is to get you two engaged."

Sarah spoke. "We have been engaged for a while. In a way, we've been engaged since our first date, I think. But I asked Chuck to marry me when I found him in Thailand, and he accepted." The memory made Sarah so happy that she smiled at Chuck despite all that Orion had revealed.

"Oh! Good. But was a ring given in pledge?"

"No, not there," Chuck said, "but _I_ asked Sarah today, just before we arrived, and she accepted. She has the ring."

Sarah held it up her hand to display her ring. Everyone looked at it. It was lovely, but as they looked at it, the ring flashed pale blue, a sudden glint of undoubted power that illumined the room for a split second, like an incredibly powerful flash bulb. Sarah blinked - and then gazed in wonderment at her ring. Everyone turned back to Orion. He was smiling. "Congratulations, you two. Good. Very good. Graham is going to get more than he bargained for."

* * *

Graham sat in the darkened office of his secret headquarters, the only light a faint avocado glow enveloping his entire body. His body crackled with power, power upon power, power beyond power. He felt like a god, omnipotent with gods. He had waited so many years for this. Only one problem remained. Walker and Bartowski. He would kill them both - he smiled and licked his lips hungrily and wetly in anticipation - but slowly, and each in view of the other. He would do...special things to Walker. Walker would pay for not becoming what he wanted her to be, what she was supposed to be. Bartowski would pay for being the usurping mortal that he was. Others would die too, many others. But they would be mere appetizers or side dishes. The main dish was the resilient and recalcitrant blond and her soft-hearted and soft-headed boyfriend. Soon, soon. Maybe, if things worked out right, he would even be able to watch the Gobbler eat Beckmann. That would be a sight to soothe sore eyes. The little woman was a giant pain in the ass.

* * *

"But there is one thing I do not understand," Chuck said suddenly.

"Just one?" Carina smirked but looked kindly from Chuck back to Orion.

"Well, _at least one_. If there is a prophecy that Sarah and I will somehow change Casting, how can anyone, including Graham, stop it? Isn't it necessary?"

"Ah, mysteries. I do not have time now to discuss all that needs to be discussed, " Orion's eyes showed that he wished he did, "but let me say this. Don't fall prey to the illusion that the future is fixed in the way that past is fixed.

"The future is unfixed, riddled through and through with contingency. What we call prophecy is a glimpse ahead, to what may happen, given what is and has happened. But the future is always vulnerable to the present. What is 'foreseen' in prophecy is the way that the world is working itself out. Some futures are more deeply implicated in the past and the present than others, and so those futures are harder to influence, hard to keep from coming to pass.

"For instance, that you and Sarah would cross paths and be gravitationally drawn to each is deeply implicated in who you both are-character _is_ fate, to an important degree. But what the two of you make of that path-crossing and that profound mutual attraction is not as deeply implicated in who you both are. The future cannot foreclose entirely on free will. The realm of law cannot jettison love and magic. The world is a daring and startling place; it could always have been different than it is. It always surprises, however much we may wish it did not. Forces are at work in it that require us to be humble, to own our own ignorance and ultimate impotence. The gift of prophecy cannot blunt that requirement. The future foreseen is best thought of not as what _must_ happen, but also not as what merely _can_ happen, but as what _may,_ what _might_ happen."

Carina smirked again. "Now, Chuck, is everything _clear_?" Orion looked at her, a little hurt. But she smiled indulgently at him. He smiled back in an avuncular way. Clearly, he had warmed to his topic and said more than he really had time to say, and much more than he had time to explain.

"Well," Chuck said, thinking, and smiling a very small, melancholy smile, "it's more coherent than the _Terminator_ timelines."

* * *

Sarah was trying hard to pull herself together back together after all that Orion had told them. She knew that Chuck was doing the same. She and Chuck had found an empty room down one of the long corridors. They were taking a moment for themselves. He was sitting in a chair at a small table. She was standing just behind him, to one side, her hand rubbing his neck. She could see his foot tapping quickly on the floor, a sure sign he was processing.

"Chuck, I am so sorry about your mom and dad. I want to be there with you when you have to tell Ellie."

He glanced up at her and smiled sadly. "Thanks, Sarah. I have had a long time to prepare for this news. I expected it. Well, not this story, of course, but the result of it, my parents being gone. It seems like they've always been gone. The only difference is that I now know there is no chance of them returning. I haven't so much lost them today as a hope I've cherished since they left."

Sarah walked around the table and took one of Chuck's hands in her. She rubbed the back of his hand gently with her thumb. She felt his foot-tapping stop. They were both quiet for a while.

"What about you, Sarah. _Graham_...?" Chuck didn't know exactly which way to take the question.

"I always knew he was manipulating me, " Sarah said. "But I thought he was that manipulating me for good, if you understand, that his means were justified by his ends. But it turns out that any good I did was really never good he intended, even if he realized it would happen - because what he really intended was to use me to find fodder for his damn _Convergence_ thingy. But I had no idea that he had separated me from...mom and dad as a way of trying to destroy me, that he sent me on mission secretly hoping I would go dark or die, or that he thought he was so deeply embedded in me, so much in control of me, that he could use me to kill or control you. Orion is right: Hubris." Sarah stopped talking, then she spat out a word. "Bastard."

Chuck shook his head in agreement. "You know, an ancient philosopher, a guy named Heraclitus, once commented, 'Hubris should be extinguished more quickly than flame.'"

"Well," Sarah said, flashing an embittered smile, "Let's put the flaming bastard out."

Chuck nodded. "We need to stop him, not so much for the sake of our past, although he has so much to answer for...but for the sake of the present and the future."

Now it was Sarah's turn to nod. She wanted to ask Chuck another question.

"Chuck, how does it feel, knowing that we were...fated...to meet? Do you feel - I don't know - like ours will be an _arranged_ marriage?" She smiled shyly at Chuck.

Chuck thought for a moment. "Sarah, no one chooses who they fall in love with. It just happens. Is it chance? Ok. Is it fate? Ok. The point is that we _fall_ in love, it happens to us. We can no more make it happen than we can make ourselves getting born happen. If I understood Orion, his point is that we are together because of who we have been and who we are, not because of some malevolent or benevolent or blind cosmic force. And even that, who we are, didn't _make_ us fall in love with each other. That just happened. And it didn't make us work to find a way to be together. From my point of view, Sarah, that we are together is miraculous, not the clicking-over of massive cosmic tumblers. If anything _made_ my heart respond to you, it was _you_. If anyone tells me that is because I was made that way, then my response is simple: _I got made right_. Does that make any sense? Maybe I've spent too long today listening to Orion. The guy's an earworm. Once you hear him, it's hard to get him out of your head."

"Does it make sense? If love made sense, Chuck, only grammarians would fall in love." They both chuckled.

Chuck stretched himself to his full height, and then spoke, in a professorial voice: "As I once said to my colleague here, it's a subject/object thing."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter-"Apocalytic". Soon.


	16. Chapter 16: Apocalyptic

A/N: One chapter after this. And then a Postscript. Thanks, everyone.

Don't own _Chuck._

* * *

CHAPTER 16 Apocalyptic

Orion indeed had power.

He was a master of Caster lore, of spells that no one any longer remembered, of spells from so long ago everyone had forgotten that they had been forgotten. He was able to 'translate', as he called it, the entire group from LA to a safe house not far distant from Pungo. The spell was not a teleportation spell, and it was not like the power Chuck had used when moving Sarah and Casey and Kamon in Thailand. According to Orion, the spell moved the destination closer to the departure, folding up space like an accordion, so that the group could step from LA to Virginia. However it did what it did, it got them safely to where they were going.

The hope was to lay low in the safe house during the day and to begin an attack on the caverns below the base at around dusk. One problem with the plan was that it took a large amount of Orion's power to cast the spell; it was unclear how much he would have left for the battle. But they could not wait: waiting might mean missing their opportunity, and allowing Graham to begin whatever he had planned.

Orion and Carina had been into the caverns before and would lead the group inside. Once in, the team would split into two groups, one, Team A, to go to the Seers' labs and to take or to destroy _The Convergence_ technology. Orion, Beckmann, and Carina would take on that task.

The other, Team B, Chuck, Sarah, and Casey, would attempt to find Graham. Orion was reasonably sure that Graham had two rooms he most often used, one above ground that he used at night and one below for the day. He evidently did not like the confines of the caverns but was unhappy about exposing himself above ground at Pungo during the day. He did not keep to a very strict schedule, so Team B was planning to begin by checking for Graham above ground and then working down into the caverns if that was necessary. Orion and Carina had seen enough to know that Graham normally traveled from the caverns to the above-ground office, and they had a good idea of the route he took, at least as he got into the upper caverns. Orion and Carina had had no luck locating Graham's rooms in the deep caverns. From what they had been able to work out, Graham emerged to the above-ground office to conduct certain business.

* * *

Casey was had knives in his belt and a pistol he was carrying in his hand. Sarah had her usual set of knives, some for throwing and one for combat. Chuck had nothing. Sarah had tried to convince him to take a tranq gun, but he was not interested. He seemed set on facing Graham as the Reader, and nothing more.

The only member of Team A who carried weapons was Carina. Orion and Beckmann planned to make do with Casting, foregoing any extra encumbrance. Because Carina knew Orion had already expended power with no real time for sleep, she was carrying a couple of flashbangs and a couple of regular grenades along with a pistol and a bandolier of knives and extra ammunition. She had a rifle slung over each shoulder and a high-powered flashlight in a holster on her waist. Orion had consented to take a rope, and he had it coiled over one of his shoulders. It was hard to tell what they might encounter in the caverns. Orion seemed rather happy about the whole situation. Evidently, he had brooded over Graham's dark machinations for so long alone that he was glad to finally be doing something about them and to have the help of others.

* * *

The other person whose reaction to it all seemed surprising was Chuck. Sarah noticed that instead of preoccupied worrying and fidgeting, he was calm, prepared. It was clear that he was concerned about everyone's safety, especially hers, but he did not seem excessively worried. Given all that he had to despise Graham for, and rightly so, Chuck did not seem pressed to avenge himself. He had been sad about his parents and still was. He had been outraged by Graham's abuse of her, and still was. But his primary concern was simply stopping Graham, keeping him from doing whatever foul things he had planned, preventing him from depriving other children of parents or manipulating the lives of others. Chuck had changed since the episode with the Belgian. Not toward her - he was the devoted, attentive, wonderful man she was going to marry - but he had changed toward himself and toward the larger, public world. His dithering, his diffidence, his self-doubt, had, if not vanished, then become controllable, and mostly controlled.

Chuck no longer seemed like he had made the world promises he was failing to keep, and so no longer seemed mottled with apologies, excuses, and explanations. He was keeping the promises, keeping _his_ promise; he was becoming the man he was and could be. He had attained his unattained but attainable self, and Sarah knew he would keep on doing that. He was not a man to be satisfied with himself, who would consider himself and pronounce himself _finished_. He was the sort of man who would spend his life trying to make himself better by conscious endeavor.

No doubt some hand-wringing and second-guessing and spiraling would always be a part of Chuck's being-in-the-world, but Sarah found that endearing. Chuck was careful with others, but also with himself. Caring as he did occasionally required his peculiar process. But mostly these days she just felt a squeeze and a flip deep in her center when she looked at Chuck and he looked back out of his brown eyes, bottomless and lovable, but also centered and settled and collected.

Sarah found Chuck's calm an aid to her own. She had faced long odds before, and gone into danger - that was nothing new. But she was doing it this time with a ring on her finger that promised her power, but much more importantly promised her a future, a future she wanted so badly she could nearly taste it. She had so much to lose now. She owed Graham. She would collect if she could. But her primary aim was to stop him while protecting her future, while protecting Chuck. At this point, for all the rage she had felt and still sometimes felt boil up in her toward Graham, her concern for Chuck and their life together was more constant and more important to her. She wanted them to survive this - for it all to end. She wanted to get married. She wanted their future.

* * *

Casey was Casey - except that he too had a bit of the same look in his eyes that Sarah did. Or he guessed he did. Wanda was back at home (and yes, Casey was inured the use of that word). Wanda had not talked with Casey about marriage, and Casey was still too afraid to bring it up, but she had gone out of her way to let Casey know that she wanted to date him exclusively - there was no one else and she was not looking. Casey was happy about that arrangement and hoped for more. Graham was in the way of that hope. Casey was determined to move him.

* * *

They reached the edge of Pungo just as the Virgina countryside darkened, just as the sun's final light was snuffed behind the horizon. Carina led them, Orion trailing just behind her, followed by everyone else. They moved silently and quickly, a heavy sense of dread as well as a desire not to be seen causing them all to bend low as they ran.

They reached the small opening that Orion and Carina had used before when doing recon on the caverns beneath Pungo. Carina stopped a few feet from the opening and cast a spell. Chuck had moved to stand beside her and he watched as a sprinkling of orangy light dotted the opening, ground, and walls. The light faded quickly. Chuck looked at Carina and she grinned at him.

"Just checking to see if anyone has warded it. I guess they still must not have found it or cared about it, if they did."

Sarah joined them. "So, down the garbage compactor chute, Han?"

"'Fraid so, Leia." Chuck and Sarah giggled together, despite the tension in the air.

Carina looked at them and rolled her eyes so hard she got dizzy for a second. It struck her that despite the fact that she knew more about Sarah's Enforcer history than Chuck did, maybe more than he ever would, he had figured out who Sarah really was in a way that Carina had never done.

Carina had always thought of love as blind, blinding, but she was now realizing that love was a kind of vision, a way of knowing. Sarah's curly-haired nerd had loved Sarah's inner nerd into the light. Carina smirked. Her best friend had not only married a nerd, she'd turned out to be a bit of a nerd herself, and to be willing to climb to higher nerd heights.

Carina laughed to herself then, both with her friends and just a little at them. Carina was not about to start watching sci-fi movies with them or to take part in their discussions of Jane Austen. Even in all this craziness, they were both re-reading _Northanger Abbey_ , a book Carina had come to understand had a special significance for them as a couple. Sarah enjoyed calling Chuck 'a rattle' and that he would smilingly dispute the title - but Carina wasn't in on the joke.

It didn't matter. Nerd or not, she loved Sarah and was beginning to understand Sarah's feelings for Chuck. They were a match. Carina now knew that matches were possible, and happiness, too. It might not be easy, and you might have to fight for it - fight with yourself for it, among other enemies - but it was not a will-o'-the-wisp. She wanted to end this business with Graham, and start living her own life anew, making places in it for other people as they really were, and not only as she imagined them to be, making a place in it for herself as she really was, and not as she had imagined herself to be. Imagination is a good thing, no doubt, but it is a hungry thing, and if it is left undisciplined, it can consume the life of the imaginer.

The two teams parted company. Team A went down into the depths of the caverns beneath Pungo. The labs were down near the dungeon. Team B went down too, but only to the top level of caverns. They were going to wait for Graham.

* * *

 _Team A_

For what seemed like an eternity to Carina, she and Beckmann and Orion crept downward through corridor after corridor. They met no one. But there were constant strange smells and muffled noises. The smells were fainter versions of the smells in the Dungeon of Stenches, and they turn Carina's stomach.

Finally, they were outside the labs. They could hear voices. Carina managed to peek through the door and saw three Seers at work. The room was full of machinery and computers and magical supplies. In the center of the room was a chair that looked like a nightmare version of the old-style hairdryers women would sit under at the hair dresser's. Evidently, the chair was used by the person sitting in it and then pulling down the large hood. It had to be _The Convergence._ Carina gestured to Beckmann and Orion, then she took a flashbang and pushed the lab door open quietly. She tossed it in. After it went off, she followed it, and Beckmann and Orion followed her. The three Seers were stunned, either immobile or moving aimlessly. Beckmann cast a spell that sent the three of them spinning across the room. Their bodies glowed reddish gold for a moment, and then they were simply gone.

"Hated to do that," Beckmann said through clenched teeth. "But we don't have time to dally."

Carina and Orion hurried out of the lab. Orion stood in the doorway and cast. A blast of incredible heat flashed from his hands and into the room. In a moment, he has slagged all that was in the room, leaving only molten lumps of metal and clumps of ash. Everything was destroyed. No one else would become _The Convergence_.

Carina heard Beckmann cry out and she turned to see her in the grasp of a tall hooded figure, with an ornate robe over a cassock. The Gobbler.

He had Beckmann's hands in his. She fought but she could not cast and she was not strong enough to free herself. The Gobbler twisted her violently and yanked her hand to his mouth. Beckmann screamed. She pulled back her hand in a splash of blood. The Gobbler had bitten off two of her fingers.

Orion cast as Beckmann fell back, clutching her bleeding hand against herself. Orion's voice rang out strong and clear as he shouted instead of muttered Latin. The time for concealment was past.

The spell erupted from Orion's hands, a jagged bolt of lightning. It struck The Gobbler in the chest. The power was massive. Yet, the Gobbler stood against it. It hurt him but it did not fell him. As Orion's spell ended, The Gobbler cast. The hallway was filled with brown oily insects that moved toward Carina and Beckmann and Orion like an expanding pool of sewer water.

Carina grabbed Beckmann and pulled her away from the insects. Orion stood firm. He cast. The hallway grew instantly cold, and a heavy sheet of ice formed over the insects, locking them in place, flash-frozen fossils. The Gobbler cursed. He sprang onto the ice with dizzying, unpredictable speed, and crashed bodily into Orion before Orion could cast again. Orion, weakened from all the casting, when down hard beneath The Gobbler. Carina could think of no spell to cast that would not also harm Orion. Beckmann was watching but her eyes were glazed with pain and shock.

The Gobbler forced Orion's arms down and pinned them to the ground. He bent down, opening his mouth to show two rows of yellowed teeth and fangs. Just as he was about to bite Orion's face away from his head, Carina jumped onto The Gobbler's back.

She clicked on her powerful flashlight and crammed it into The Gobbler's mouth with such force that it lodged deep in his thick throat. He began to gag and to claw at Carina. She could feel his claws lacerate her flesh, but she would not let go, would not let him get his hands into his mouth. The Gobbler was suffocating.

Suddenly, light shone from The Gobbler's throat. The flashlight was on and the light was burning deep into The Gobbler's coal dark insides. The light began to move downward, even as The Gobbler continued to gag. He was now alight from the neck down to his legs.

Without warning, The Gobbler exploded, blowing Carina back onto the floor of the hallway and covering all of them with chunks and spray of flesh and blood. Orion, covered so completely in fragments of The Gobbler that he was unrecognizable, got up unsteadily, looking around him in disbelief.

"You killed The Gobbler! With a flashlight. With a _flashlight_?"

Carina wiped the thick black blood from her face and grinned a bit madly at Orion. "'May it be a light to you in dark places'…" When Orion gaped at her, Carina continued. "And if you ever tell anyone I know that line, I will cut you, Orion."

Orion hurried to bandage Beckmann's hand and staunch the bleeding. He started to dig around in the debris of The Gobbler for her fingers, but Beckmann, more in control of herself than she had been during the battle, told him not to look. She would survive without them. Carina was cut in several places. None of the cuts was so deep that it demanded immediate attention.

Together, they moved as fast as Beckmann could back toward the surface of Pungo.

* * *

 _Team B_

Team B was waiting for Graham. They wanted him above ground. A battle under the moon would give Sarah and Chuck an advantage. She was casting the spell to draw power from the moon, the spell Chuck had seen her cast atop the building at the end of their first date. He watched her again, falling in love all over.

So far as they knew, Graham had not been able to find a way to transfer that from any female caster, since it did not seem to be a power _per se_ but a feature of female Casters that affected their powers. They settled in. If Graham was coming above ground, it would be soon. If not, then they would have no choice but to go down to find him.

They waited for a long time. Just when they were about to give up and go deeper below Pungo, they heard a noise. They stepped back into the small hallway whose mouth they occupied. A moment or two later, two men came into view. One was ordinary looking, other than being remarkably handsome. Chuck felt Sarah's hand grab his arm. He looked at her and she mouthed _Bryce_.

The other man was Graham. He glowed a dark green, almost black. No one needed Chuck's power to see the glow, although Chuck could see more, could see the way that the green-black around Graham swirled and stirred as if itself alive. As it moved, it gathered into the faces of men and women and monsters, all screaming, before the green-black moved again and the faces disappeared, replaced soon by new screaming faces. Graham was hell and damnation afoot. Except he wasn't exactly afoot. He was floating a few inches above the ground; he no longer deigned to walk.

In a moment, Bryce and Graham had progressed up the main tunnel and out into the moonlight. Chuck and Sarah and Casey crept along behind them, waiting for Bryce and Graham to get far enough from the entrance to the tunnel that it would be difficult for them to return. Casey nodded in the direction of Bryce. He gestured for Chuck and Sarah to take Graham. He began to cast, as did Sarah.

Sarah's spell smacked Graham hard. But it seemed to do little except to bring them to his attention. Casey had moved away from them as he cast so that they were not all close enough to be targeted by one spell. Graham cast and the ground beneath Chuck and Sarah exploded. It was like they were standing on a geyser of earth rocked by an earthquake. The impact was severe. Sarah was knocked backward, and rolled over and over again before stopping. It turned out though that Graham had actually targeted the spell on Chuck. He was thrown up high in the air and then came down with a sickening thud. He did not move. Graham casually looked away from them and at Casey.

Casey was locked in a battle with Bryce. Each had cast an initial spell and damaged each other. Bryce couldn't use one arm; Casey was hobbled on one leg. Bryce had drawn a knife and they slammed together. It was clear to Casey that Bryce was the faster, particularly with Casey effectively fighting on one leg. But the inability to use his other arm deprived Bryce of some balance, and so of some speed. Still, the fight depended on whether or not Casey could manage to get Bryce on the ground. If Bryce remained upright, he would eventually recalibrate for this limp arm and his speed advantage would intensify, with deadly. Casey got hold of Bryce's knife hand and then drew Bryce into a clinch with his other arm. He hooked his leg behind Bryce's and then pushed his much greater body weight into Bryce. They tumbled to the ground, with Casey on of Bryce. Casey drew his own knife, knowing that Bryce could not stop him since Bryce's free arm was the limp one. Casey raised the knife over his head and prepared to finish Bryce.

At just that moment, Graham unleashed a massive volley of flames at Casey. Clearly, Graham simply did not care about Bryce; the conflagration would kill both men. Sarah shouted Casey's name just as Graham cast, and Sarah saw Casey start to roll, but then flames exploded all around him and Sarah could see him no more. All she could see was empty, charred ground.

Her fear for Casey rooted her in place for a second. It was long enough for Graham to get to her and grab her. He squeezed her from behind, his strength titanic. Sarah could not break free. Graham squeezed still harder, and she felt her body begin to give way. Burning, stabbing pains shot around her ribs and up and down her back. She could not breathe. She was going to blackout. Graham leaned in close and began to whisper in her ear. "Ah, Sarah. I hoped it might end this way, getting to kill you up close and personally, while your useless boyfriend watches. Maybe it is not all that I hoped for," Graham's tongue wet her ear, "but it will be enough."

Sarah could see Chuck. He was struggling to his feet, beginning to recover from the blast of Graham's spell and the fall. She saw him understand what he was seeing and then saw the pure panic on his face. He knew he could not get to her in time to stop Graham from crushing the life from her. The pain on his face was so deep that for a moment, Sarah actually regretted that he loved her so much - if he loved her less, or not at all, what he was about to see would not destroy him. Graham tightened his grip again and Sarah lost her grip on the world. After a moment, Graham dumped her.

Graham's dark green glow intensified. With a casual wave of his hand, he blew Chuck backward several yards, slamming him into the side of an old barracks. Before the blow had dissipated, roots had risen from the ground and wrapped themselves, serpentine, around Chuck's feet and then around his wrists, pulling his arms out, and trapping him against the barracks.

Sarah regained consciousness just as it happened. She managed to get up. She feared her Graham had broken ribs or her back, but a quick twist, while painful, assured her that he had not. She stumbled in Chuck's direction. Graham seemed amused by Chuck's plight, and, not noticing Sarah, was taking a moment to enjoy the tableau before administering the _coup de grace_.

"This is what comes of mortals having power. Nothing. You are useless, Bartowski, a failure. You and your humility, your generosity, your investments in other people - all are a colossal delusion, Bartowski. God is hate. Hate is real. Darkness wins. The sun was created for eclipse!"

Chuck, although he had been hanging with his head down, was evidently not unconscious. He looked up, straining to lift his head. But he did. He looked squarely into Graham's green-glowing eyes and shook his head slowly. "Let this go, Graham. Let us help you. You cannot contain the hate and darkness inside you. All those evil minds creeping around in yours, Graham; that is not a formula for sanity. Let us help you."

"I had hoped Bartowski, that you would end this like a warrior, like a man. _Like Walker_. Not like a sheep, bleating stupidity to me about sanity. I have _transcended_ sanity, boy, and I now see all of time and eternity. This world, _your_ world, is a small, damp, crowded room in a mansion of rooms. I am the mansion's lord and master."

Sarah had gathered herself and she ran past Graham to Chuck. Her reappearance shocked Graham; he faltered in the midst of his monologue.

She got to Chuck just as she was impacted a new spell by Graham, the most virulent spell she had ever experienced. There were no words for it. It was tap-rooted in all the hate that Graham now contained, and was the hate's pure distillate. It was like her soul was suddenly steeping in sulfuric acid, being eaten away. Her mind filled with images of horror, of the unspeakable things done by the Casters Graham had drained. And just as she found it unbearable, as it started to break her, it was gone.

She knew Chuck had somehow redirected the spell onto himself. She heard him gasp and moan, and then she heard him begin to sob. She looked into his face. He smiled wetly at her.

"Attack him, Sarah, hit him with everything you have."

Sarah spun around and went down on one knee as she cast. She poured all that she was into the spell, all the pain and fear and betrayal of her childhood, the lonely terrors of her life as an Enforcer, but all of it reshaped and refocused by her love for Chuck, by her newly won wholeheartedness. She felt the moonlight aid her too. She hit Graham hard, harder than he imagined possible.

Graham roared in fury and pain. Then he doubled-down on his spell. Sarah did not stop. She would not stop. Graham would kill Chuck. She was his only chance. She could not fail.

But she knew she would. Graham was so strong. The moon could only help her for so long. She could tell that Graham's spell intensified in power and horror. She peeked back at Chuck. He had his eyes squeezed shut as he wept, and a black liquid, ichor, ran from them and from his nose and his mouth.

"More, Sarah."

The enormity of her predicament struck Sarah.

The only way to defeat Graham, if he could be defeated, was for her to keep attacking him. But that meant that Graham would keep attacking, and so keep pouring hate into Chuck, deluging him in darkness. Chuck was drawing power from the moon, but, as was true of her, it could only help him for so long. Not for much longer.

"More, Sarah. More. I love you."

She heard Chuck speak from behind her, and she joined him in weeping, her eyes streaming her clear tears as she renewed her attack on Graham. Just as her strength was about to fail her, just as her power began to flicker and the edges of Graham's mouth to lift in an anticipatory smirk, Sarah's engagement ring began to glow blue-white. At first, the glow was tiny but hard and bright, a star in a distant sky. But then it grew, pulsing and spreading until it had surrounded her, and then had surrounded her and Chuck.

Graham screamed his rage. He unleashed his full power. Sarah heard Chuck gasp in despair. The look of horror and pain on Chuck's face was complete. She knew that Graham was about to win.

And then she saw Graham begin to...melt. His extended fingers began to drip. Initially, it looked like sweat, but then it became clear that each of his fingers was becoming shorter, as if each was made of wax and exposed to a sudden heat. His feet began to puddle, then pool. His head began to sink into his shoulders and his shoulders to slump into formlessness. In a few seconds, Graham was gone and all that was left was a tar smear, smoking foully on the ground. Sarah was left with the image of Graham smiling as his head melted into his slumping shoulders.

Sarah held stock still. She feared to breathe, to move.

Graham was gone. Good riddance. She heard Chuck crumple to the ground behind her, released by the roots no longer enlivened by Graham's malevolence.

She spun to Chuck. He was covered in ichor. It still dripped from his eyes, his nose, and, Sarah noticed, even his ears. She bent down beside him and Chuck convulsed, vomiting up ichor as if he had been drowning in it. It splashed on the ground and all over Sarah. It smelled vile. Chuck collapsed, supine. For a moment, a long infinite moment, Sarah thought he was dead. But then she found a pulse, weak and erratic. She could not revive him. She contacted Orion telepathically, calling for help. And then she dropped her head onto Chuck's filthy chest and she wept.

* * *

Orion had run ahead when Sarah contacted him. He left Carina to get Beckmann back to the surface.

He ran as quickly as his deepening exhaustion would allow. He ran to Sarah who was weeping into Chuck's shirt. He grabbed her shoulders gently and pulled her up into a seated position. He asked her to tell him what had happened as he quickly examined Chuck. She told him. Orion could find no physical injury to Chuck. Whatever had happened to him was the result of Graham's spell.

Carina arrived with Beckmann and sat her down next to Sarah. Sarah sent Carina to the scorched patch of earth where Sarah had last seen Casey. She unearthed Casey from beneath Bryce's burnt corpse. His forearms were badly burned and the spell had knocked him unconscious. But he revived quickly and was able to carry Chuck in his arms when Orion used the last of his strength to cast the spell taking them back to Beckmann's headquarters.

* * *

Sarah knew they won. But to her, the victory felt like a defeat.


	17. Chapter 17: The Weight of the World

A/N: Final chapter. (Not counting the coming Postscript.)

I part with this story reluctantly. I have enjoyed telling it. I hope that has been palpable. I have enjoyed your responses to it and have tried to respond to them. Again, thanks, everyone.

And, again, I don't own _Chuck_.

* * *

CHAPTER 17 The Weight of the World

Chuck was in a coma. He was in a bed in Beckmann's infirmary. Ellie, Orion and a Healer team were attending him.

The infirmary was state-of-the-art. Ellie took a look around when she arrived and decided that Chuck would be better off there than at the hospital. Especially given that he was suffering from something otherworldly, not something this-worldly. After consulting with Sarah and Orion and the Healers, Ellie decided that the problem was the darkness inside of Chuck. He was clearly fighting it, but the battle was a close-run thing. It could go either way. Chuck had frequent coughing fits, and each ended with him spitting up more of the ichor that kept leaking from him. It still ran in a slow syrupy stream from his nostril and from his ears and occasionally from the corners of his eyes. He moved very little, although it was clear that his eyes were moving rapidly behind his eyelids. Sarah feared even to imagine his dreams. She knew they were like her memories, except worse and more plentiful. He moaned a little between coughing fits. A few times he said Sarah's name.

Sarah had been examined by Ellie. She was bruised and battered, but nothing was broken. Except maybe her heart. She had cuts and abrasions, but nothing that required stitches. Except maybe her heart. She had come through the battle intact. Except... She sat constantly at Chuck's side, whispering his name, telling him about the wedding preparations, rubbing his hands and arms. Kissing him. She had refused to cancel the wedding preparations when Beckmann and Ellie pulled her aside to advise it.

"No," she said simply, "Chuck will be awake in time."

* * *

Ellie gathered every light she could find in Beckmann's headquarters and in the Shop itself. She even borrowed lights from a small independent film group that had an office nearby. She had then had the lights rigged together so that they all shone at once directly onto Chuck. The hope was that the light would help Chuck to defeat the darkness. _After all_ , Ellie had argued, _if the darkness takes a material form, presents itself as ichor, why not fight it with actual lights_? _Think about The Gobbler._ The scene had upset Sarah when she first saw it: Chuck in a white hospital gown, under a white blanket, lit up by dozens of white lights. It was like he was already gone, transfigured to some new, perhaps heavenly plane. The only darkness in the room was the infernal liquid that stained Chuck's gown and blanket when he coughed, and that oozed from him as he slept.

"Chuck," Sarah began as she sat down in the midst of the light, "come back to me. I know that Graham showed you things no one should see, things even Graham could not bear to see. Things that destroyed Graham. But I know you and love you, Chuck. You've never lost faith, you've never lost faith in goodness. Not when your parents left you, not during those long years after Jill you spent in the Buy More. Darkness only wins if you choose it, Chuck. Graham chose it and it consumed him, consumed him inside out. Evil always eats its own. But you did not choose it. You won't choose it. I know you, Chuck. Choose yourself, Chuck, choose me, choose us."

* * *

Orion had come in as Sarah spoke. When she saw him, and when he realized she did, he looked around awkwardly. She gestured to him. He came in and took a seat on the other side of Sarah.

"Let me tell you...both...a story: it goes back into immemorial time.

"Magic has always been a dependent thing, dependent on love, "an efflux of love", as one great ancient Caster, a Seer, put it. As such it was tied to persons and to their love, their proper loves. The people to whom powers were granted did not inherit them. The powers were granted because the people were virtuous: wise, just, courageous, self-controlled, generous-minded. Virtue itself is a condition of love. A virtuous person is someone whose life displays the _ordo amoris_ , that displays properly ordinated loves. Put it like this: the virtuous person loves each thing with the kind or degree of love appropriate to it.

"There were in those days no distinctions between Casters and mortals, no distinction of our sort; the distinction had nothing to do with heredity. It had to do with...human merit. Here's what I mean. The word 'aristocracy' comes from Greek. It meant something like "rule by the virtuous'. The only superiority of the virtuous was the superiority of their well-lived lives. But over time the term has come to mean 'rule by the superior' where the superiority, so-called, is just money or titles or birth. That shift in meaning happened in the history of Casting in a dramatic way.

"A few virtuous Casters over time began to backslide, corrupted, in important part at least, by power. It's always power. They began to think they were just better than those without power. They conspired and worked and began to embrace the darkness. Eventually, after many years, they mounted a great Casting that cast a shadow across magic itself. They were able to wrest magic from its tie to virtue and tie it instead to _blood_. Magic could be handed down, like money and non-magical power, and often with those things.

"That new tie of blood to magic greatly increased the darkness, and the number of dark casters, since it was now possible to be granted powers without virtue, in fact, powers could now be granted even to the vicious (think of the Belgian). Before, dark casters were a rarity, because typically virtuous people do not backslide into viciousness. It happens but is a phenomenon to be explained and regretted, mercifully rare, not to be accepted.

"When I first came into contact with _The Intersection_ , I was able to read it without becoming a Reader. I realized after much study that the book had been corrupted. It had been intended to seek out worthy readers, but the great Casting had enshadowed even _The Intersection_. The book chose only those of Caster bloodlines; originally, it would have chosen only virtuous Readers. I worked many years and finally was able to undo the damage to the book, to restore it. Chuck was the first Reader the book chose after I made it whole again. It chose Chuck to face Graham, I now realize. I think Chuck is the anti-Graham. The book did not choose Chuck because he was a mortal; it chose a mortal because he was Chuck. I didn't know it would choose Chuck - but the choice did not shock me either. He is a remarkable man, Sarah."

"So that's what the Ouija board meant!" Sarah said softly to Orion but with her gaze fixed on Chuck.

"Right, the book chose Chuck. His mortality was not the reason. And I suspect, Sarah," Orion added with a small, almost sneaky smile, "that you and the book choose Chuck for some of the same reasons, although not _all_ , of course. The book is...how should I say this... _female,_ at least this time around. It... she... cares for Chuck."

Sarah smiled lopsidedly. "The cover of the book, Orion, is it dark brown?" He nodded.

"Another damn brunette…" Sarah grumbled.

Orion chuckled. "When Chuck put that engagement ring on you, the two of you reversed the great Casting. Or, maybe it would be better to say that you pulled a string in the knot that will cause the great Casting eventually to unravel. Over time - it may take days, it may take months, it may take a few years - dark Casters will find their power decreasing and eventually disappearing. Had Graham lived, he alone would have had the power to stop what you started, so it was crucial that he be defeated. Dark casters will, of course, come again. They always come again. Even virtuous people sometimes become corrupt. Even at high noon, there are bits of shadow. But if we are vigilant, they will never return in the numbers or with the kind of power they have had."

Sarah listened with a divided heart. What they had done was important. She knew that. _Greater good_. _Future of Casting_. She got it. What they had done was great news for the world. But what if it cost her Chuck?

The greater good should never cost anyone her integrity, should never be something a person is obliged to pursue against her having a life, a real life. And it took Chuck, with his love of hearth and home and friends to get her to see that she had not been choosing self-sacrifice in her past, but had chosen not to have a self to sacrifice. Those were two vastly different things, though they sometimes looked alike. Chuck had helped her begin to have a self. She did not want to stop that. She wanted to keep learning from him. She could not bear to lose him.

Sarah tried to think of something else; that thought made her crazy.

"I still don't understand how we defeated Graham. Do you?"

Orion knit his brows together. "I have a good guess, I think. Maybe I even know. I mean, you don't have to know when you know, do you?" Sarah raised an eyebrow and Orion forced himself back on topic. "You and Chuck both like Jane Austen, right? I think Carina mentioned that to me. Well, think about the Jane Austen heroines who are often overlooked or criticized, Fanny Price in _Mansfield Park_ and Anne Elliot in _Persuasion_." Sarah nodded. She knew the characters even though she had not gotten to those books yet. They were on the list she and Chuck had made.

"Those two characters are often criticized for being passive, wallflowers. But that is a misunderstanding. They are actually courageous. The virtue of courage has two sides, but we only see one these days. One side, the side we see, is the side of _attack_ , the courage of the soldier. But there is another side, the one we miss these days, the side of _endurance_ , the courage of the martyr or the prisoner. Other Austen heroines, particularly Elizabeth Bennet, exhibit a courage more like the courage of the soldier, and so it is easier for us to recognize the virtue of courage in them, in her. But Fanny is courageous too. She endures, and in enduring, she saves Mansfield Park. She suffers but she turns her suffering into good.

"You Sarah, are one side of the virtue of courage, the _attacking_ side, the virtue of the knight errant. Chuck is the other side of the virtue, the _enduring_ side, the virtue of the damsel in distress, held a prisoner in a high tower...or the Burbank Buy More. Only courage, complete courage, could have stopped Graham. The book took Chuck's extraordinary capacity to endure and strengthened it. Chuck's love intensified your capacity for attack by making you whole. When you fought Graham, you two became all of courage. Chuck bore the brunt of Graham, but your power embraced Chuck at the crucial moment, it turned from pure attack to defense. And he encouraged your attack, turning from pure defense to attack. It is because you two complete each other in these ways that your engagement spelled the end of the great Casting. It is why you could defeat Graham. You made him drill down into all the darkness inside him, and it finally consumed him."

Sarah shook her head. It was too much to take in, although she had to admit that in her bones it felt like the right explanation. "So Chuck can draw power from the moon _because he is Fanny Price_? Chuck will love that." Orion shrugged. Then they both laughed in the middle of the white island of light. As their laughter ended, they both heard Chuck's voice.

"Sarah, Sarah...? Is that you? Orion? Where am I?" Sarah jumped from her chair and put her hands on Chuck's face.

"I'm here, Chuck. I love you. I love you! You are going to be ok. You're in Beckmann's infirmary." Her relief ran down her face.

* * *

Orion retreated to give the couple privacy. He saw Ellie as he walked down the hall. He stopped to tell her about Chuck. She squealed at a pitch that carried through the building and threatened the integrity of every piece of glassware.

"I guess Ellie knows that I am awake."

* * *

In the few days leading up to the wedding, Chuck's condition improved greatly. He was no longer coughing up inky darkness and it was no longer oozing from his body. Ellie kept him under the lights. It was clear that although the physical damage was healing quickly, the psychological damage was taking longer. It wasn't that Chuck was despondent or depressed. It was more like he was haunted. He did not seem to have nightmares but his sleep was troubled. Orion speculated that there was still a battle being waged in Chuck's subconscious, a battle to overcome his exposure to the most profound darkness.

"He took on the weight of the world, Sarah. He carried a burden that he did not want to carry, that no one should carry. A burden, remember, that Graham wanted to carry but could not. The burden claimed Graham. Chuck is still standing - although I know that technically he is in his bed. But spiritually, psychologically, he is still standing. He endures, Sarah. Keep him focused on you, on the wedding. He will come around."

Now that Chuck was doing better, Sarah was able to assess what was happening around her: Beckmann's healers, along with Ellie, were able to take care of her hand. She did not ask for any sort of magical healing. She regarded her fingers as the price she paid for not seeing through Graham for so long, for the degree to which he had fooled and manipulated her. "Some people tie a string around their finger to remember; some have them bitten off by monsters." She was a tough lady.

She had also been spending time in whispered conversations with Orion. Sarah began to wonder if there might not be some backstory there. Maybe they had known each other in the past? Of course, it might have just been Sarah's imagination. She was so full of love she was probably just projecting it onto everyone else.

* * *

Casey's burns proved not to be too serious. He submitted a gracious letter of resignation to Beckmann, thanking her for all she had done for him. It was to be effective on the day of the wedding. _One last mission._ Beckmann's House gave Casey a very generous retirement. He was planning to open a shooting club nearby.

* * *

When Sarah went in to see Chuck on the day before the wedding, he was up and dressed. The armament of lights was off. The only light was from the lamp on the bedstand. He looked like himself, from his curly hair to his black hightops. There were still shadows in the corners of his eyes, but they seemed no longer to threaten the brown of his eyes. The shadows were losing. Tonight was the rehearsal dinner. Chuck had been up and about for a couple of days and his physical strength was returning apace. He still had a distance to go, but he pointed out that she was the one who was going to have to walk down the aisle. He just had to stand and wait. He could do that. He was good at waiting.

* * *

Beckmann came to Chuck and Sarah later that day with the news. The Houses had voted unanimously to turn Graham's House over to Chuck and Sarah. It would be House Bartowski. They could run it from Burbank, if they wanted. It meant, among other things, that they were suddenly wealthy. That was great. But Chuck wanted to go back to school, he was beginning to think a Ph. D. in archeology was what he wanted. Sarah just wanted quiet, hearth and home. Maybe she would eventually want to have a hand in running the House. But for now, she wanted to spend time with Chuck, spend time just being with Chuck, being Sarah, and just _being._ Carina volunteered to run the House for them. That suited everyone. Beckmann turned Cave over to them as the at-least-temporary headquarters of House Bartowski.

* * *

Graham's dark Enforcers were scattered and on the run and steadily weakening. Non-hereditary Casters were already beginning to appear. The distinction between Casters and mortals, the distinction that had shaped Sarah's life and the lives of generations of Casters, was breaking down, vanishing like the Berlin Wall. The world was turning topsy-turvy - but in a good way.

* * *

Chuck stood in his suit and took stock. Ellie and Devon decorated the courtyard for the rehearsal dinner. It was beautiful. Everyone was there. Morgan and Lou, Casey and Wanda, Carina, Orion, Beckmann, the Buy More crew, the crew from Lou's.

The big surprise was Sarah's parents, Jack and Emma. Orion, at Chuck's urging, had found them both and gotten them to town in time for the dinner and the wedding.

* * *

Sarah was very glad indeed to see her father again, even if she thought it unlikely he could change. But who knew? She had changed in ways she could barely have imagined even a year ago. Her reunion with her mother was tearful and heartfelt. Her mother could not apologize enough for retreating from Sarah's life, and Sarah apologized for making her feel like that retreat was what Sarah wanted. They cried and held each other, and Chuck watched it all with tears in his eyes, and his heart, so recently full of darkness now filled with light.

Tomorrow, he and Sarah would make official what was already true. Each was the other's everything.

"C'mon," Sarah commanded, finding him standing at the side of the courtyard, looking around, "Mom wants to meet you, Fanny." She kissed him briefly but with feeling. Chuck shook his head and followed Sarah as she led the way. They were both laughing.

End of Book Three: House Bartowski?

End of Chuck Vs. The Beautiful Creatures

* * *

Chapter-closing music: "Making It Up as We Go Along", The Vigilantes of Love

(Hang around, a Postscript is coming!)


	18. PS I Love You

A/N: Thanks for sharing your time with me, everyone.

* * *

 **PS I Love You**

Wedding bells pealed.

The small chapel was alight with candles and joy. Sarah stood at the end of the aisle, her arm in her father's arm.

Her mother stood at one of the front pews, beaming. Their reunion had been difficult at first. They were still getting to know each other, but they loved each other. Having her mom help her get ready, to help her put on her wedding dress, having her to talk to as Sarah's nerves got to her a little - it had been wonderful, a wedding present of the most satisfying possible kind.

Her father was happy for her. He was proud of her, and he liked Chuck, even if he pretended not to be able to remember Chuck's name. He would leave town again soon, no doubt, but she thought she saw something in his happiness for her and his affection for Chuck that would bring him back to town again. Assuming he could avoid jail…

As she walked down the aisle, she passed Wanda, who kept looking at her and then to the front, at Casey, who was best man. Casey was looking at Sarah and then at Wanda, and Sarah and Wanda both knew he was trying a white dress on Wanda in his imagination. Wanda smiled widely at him. Orion and Beckmann both nodded at Sarah with pride and deep fondness. Lou and Ellie were waiting for her at the front, along with Carina, all looking beautiful in their dresses, all so happy for her. Her friends.

 _She had friends_.

 _She had a family_.

Morgan was trying to look solemn, but glee kept breaking in. He couldn't hide his smile for long. Devon stood alongside Casey, and he mouthed "Awesome!" to her just before she reached Chuck.

Chuck. He was resplendent in his tux. To say that he looked happy would like saying the sun looked bright. He filled the room, his love for her rays of illuminating devotion that stretched outward from him in all directions. He rivaled the sun. He lit and warmed and enlivened her whole world.

* * *

Chuck stopped breathing when he saw her. Her wedding dress was beautiful, white with the barest undertone of blue. He could see the light that surrounded her, much the same color as her dress, and he could see the piercing shine from her engagement ring, now on her right hand. Chuck knew he was surrounded by the people he loved and people who, like Sarah's parents, he was coming to love: but he could see only her. She was the focal point of his existence, the author and finisher of his happiness. _Sarah_.

* * *

Sarah was hardly aware of their vows, although they were wonderful, and hardly aware of Morgan's officiating, although it was insightful and restrained. She was aware of Chuck and of the fact that he was promising himself to her. _Chuck_.

She then promised herself to him. She had begun to understand in the past months that a person's reality is constituted by the promises, commitments, and resolutions the person keeps. The most beautiful thing in human life is dedicated living. She was dedicating her life to Chuck; he was dedicating his to her. _Perfect._

* * *

Afterwards, in the midst of the reception, Devon proposed to Ellie. After an _It took you long enough!_ scowl, she said _Yes_. At a very high pitch. And the party became, if possible, more breathless and more festive.

* * *

Chuck hugged Morgan, thanking him for the ceremony. Morgan had a lighthouse smile. Chuck stepped back and Lou, standing beside Morgan, put her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, possessively.

"Chuck, man, I am so happy for you. I know you are going to have an amazing life. Sarah is special, and you two belong together." Morgan's smile became more expansive, which seemed to violate some law of nature.

"Thanks for everything, Morgan. You did great. I know how lucky I am. It's like my life is...is…" Chuck stumbled, hunting for the right ending to his thought.

"It's like your life is one long episode of _Bewitched_ , Darrin!"

Lou looked slightly lost. Chuck snickered.

"When you're right, Larry, you're right."

* * *

Sarah stood on the rocky Maine shoreline.

The ocean was in dramatic movement, waves falling heavy onto the shore. Rain was coming. Sarah could see it in the distance. She welcomed it. It meant that she and Chuck could start a fire in their small cabin and spend the day...honeymooning...on the couch in front of the fire, or maybe on the rug in front of the fire…there were lots of in-front-of-the-fire possibilities. Thinking about the possibilities started small answering fires deep in Sarah, in her chest and elsewhere.

She had awakened before Chuck. She contemplated his face, so beautiful and so peaceful, and she was devoutly glad that his haunted look and troubled sleep were passing. He was amazing.

She let him sleep. She got up and slipped on jeans and a sweatshirt. She put on her boots and a jacket.

And now she stood on the rocky shoreline.

Her power had been changing. She had always understood it as a weapon, as intended for fighting. But ever since she had used her full power against Graham and to protect Chuck, hidden potentials in it had been revealed to her. She was, for instance, more deeply and completely aware of her body than she had ever been. Even its automatic functions, breathing, pulsing, all had been made accessible to her consciousness. She wasn't conscious of them constantly, but she could be aware of them, if and when she wanted.

She had wanted it last night when she had made love to Chuck for the first time as his wife, and it had made what would have been the best night of her life anyway even better. She knew the full depth of her responsiveness to her husband. And this morning, as she walked along the shoreline, she knew something more.

A life had begun to grow inside her last night. It was a small but intense pinprick of presence.

A little girl was waiting to join them, and she would in a matter of months. Sarah could feel that all was well with the little girl. _Tabitha Eva Bartowski_. The name leaped unbidden into Sarah's mind. She was sure Chuck would love the name. She was sure he would be overjoyed about the baby.

She wanted to tell him immediately but she also wanted to let him sleep. They had time. The rain moved from the ocean onto the beach. She stood in it for a few minutes, arrested by the display of grays, the sky and the ocean. Far off, blue shone through a break in the rain clouds. The rainwater felt baptismal, cleansing, freeing. She gazed around herself, horizon to horizon, a new woman.

It was a good world. It was a wild, half-saved, half-savage world. It was a world of magic. It was a world of love. And she had a future and a home in it. She walked back to Chuck.

* * *

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